Bird's Eye View
by AmbiguousTardigrade
Summary: The mind of Avian Conner, is a strange one indeed. How does she think? How does she perceive the foreign world found inside Wall Rose? How does she interact with her peers when Levi is not around? All this and other adventures ranging from serious to silly shall be explained. *This is a series of oneshots/drabbles/side stories that coincide with my main fic 'Learning to Fly*
1. Chapter 1

**Before we get started, please note that Bird's Eye View is not its own fanfiction. This is purely a collection of oneshots/drabbles/side stories that coincide with my original fic, Learning to Fly. This will not be updated on a regular schedule, so chapters will be written and uploaded only when I have the time, and only when I feel like doing so. Nor will this fic follow any sort of timeline, and not all chapters will be in order in terms of when certain events may take place. I will come up with plots and arcs whenever I think of them. Note, that most of these chapters will NOT feature much of Corporal Levi, if at all, as this is to serve as a way to see how Avian Conner interacts and behaves when he is not present. Because of this, most of these oneshots and drabbles will be in AVIAN'S POINT OF VIEW unless stated otherwise. With all that said, please enjoy!**

**If you haven't read Learning to Fly up to Chapter 7 then DO NOT CONITINUE.**

The story thus far: Squad Levi has just survived the near impossible journey of returning to Wall Rose after having spent the previous week at the home of Avian Conner. Having safely escorted them to their destination, Avian has since declined Eren's offer for her to come with them inside the walls, and is now reluctantly making her way back home.

This one-shot is told in first person from Avian's POV

**Trusting in Fate**

There is nothing but the sound of solid hooves upon the ground, of the gentle caress of wind blowing in my hair, of the melodic pounding in my heart, all coinciding into a rhythm of solemn farewell. The deed has been done, the strangers have been safely escorted home. Our time of unity has come to an end, as I knew it would.

So what is this ache that plagues me?

I knew such an impasse would come, as did they, and yet…

Why do I feel saddened by their departure? It makes no sense, as to why I should care so much about the welfare of these strange people who suddenly happened upon me not but a week before.

So many thoughts, so many feelings, all of which are foreign to me. Am I regretful? Am I fearful? Am I hesitant? What am I feeling exactly?

It doesn't matter now. They are all long gone, back to their monumental walls and their strange city. Back to their homes and their lives, back to their Garrisons and Reconnaissance Corporations, whatever they may be.

There is only the sound of hooves upon the ground. That is all I need to know. I'm heading back home, and with each comforting gallop those strange people draw farther and farther away into the distance behind me.

I do not look back.

A great deal of time passes between my departure from the group and coming into close proximity with the first of the great walls we had to pass through, Rose is what they called it? Whatever it may be named, there are no giants in sight, so we journey through the breach unscathed.

I can feel Stonewall slowing beneath me, and I can hear his breaths becoming more labored.

"We are half way there, Stone." I tell him in a soft voice, running my fingers through is grand mane. "I know you are fatigued, but you must go on. We must make home before nightfall."

That is all I say as we ride steadily forward. Giants linger as hounding predators on this side of the great wall, but they are far away and do not bother us. Soon enough, we make it to the district gate, and though nothing impedes us as we enter, giant bodies to both of my sides stir in the distance at the sound of hooves upon stone. I loathe to take up form again as my right leg still pains me from my slip hours before, but there is no helping it.

The giants draw closer, their pudgy bellies and grotesque arms reaching out for me, a physical manifestation of death, but even with so many around me, I am not afraid.

With practiced ease, I tap the command 'follow me' on Stonewall's neck, and with the slightest of movements to signal to him that I wish to jump off, my steed makes a sharp left so his body is nearly perpendicular, and the force of his sidestep throws me into the air as I leap. Only when I feel myself start to descend, and only when I know that he is well enough away so he will not be scalded by steam, do I transform.

It is but a simple thought that provokes the mutation, much the same kind that urges any of my other limbs to move, or what allows me to switch from one emotion to another. It is a kind of change that is not readily explainable, it can only be felt. It is as natural to me as breathing, and after so many years of having practiced, I feel as comfortable in this body as I do my own.

Heat of unimaginable temperature envelops me, though it does not scald me, and the all too familiar sensation of having my limbs and senses extended overcomes me. Before I know it, I'm flying. This giant body of mine holds such great speed that I propel myself through the air as if I were a bird, my hands and feet barely touching the ground below.

I've always loved this, the feeling of strength and speed and agility this form yields to me. For years I've wondered at where such an ability came from, but over time, the question just slipped my mind. It wasn't important. I was the only one.

Until now.

With heavy heart, I think back to that brown haired youth who is just as I am. It is still a difficult thing to grasp, the fact that I am not one of a kind. That there are others like me out here in the world. For so long, I believed myself to be alone, and for a good number of years, I was.

There was only me.

For a decade it was only me and my thoughts, my actions, my memories. Solitude was a harsh reality, but somehow I survived, the instinct to keep on living, the instinct to retain my humanity through all that time somehow managed, and I never even realized that I was still capable of some form of communication until _they_ came.

The strangers.

So suddenly, so abrupt, like a happening of chance.

But there is no such thing as chance, only the fate's design.

How else did they happen to find me, out of all the places they could have gone? How is it that in the vastness of the woods that surround my home, how is it that they stumbled upon my home, as secluded and hidden as anything can be?

It's fate, of course. What else could it be?

Fate is such a strange, incomprehensible thing, yet it is that one thing that keeps this world in balance. It is fate alone that gives the world a sense of stability, it is the reason why things occur the way they do. I have to believe that, I have no choice. It is the only thing that keeps me from going mad. How else could I have survived this long after losing everything? Those three winters of insanity after my family was taken from me… it is a wonder I still remember such an event. I could have sworn that my mind would be lost in the overwhelming pressures of rage, depression, horror, and isolation.

But somehow… it wasn't.

Somehow, I retained who I am. I retained my sense of right and wrong, my knowledge, my morals, my ambitions, my individuality. Somehow… it all stayed with me. What else but fate can be responsible for such a thing?

So caught up am I in the wonderings of my inner thoughts that I startle to attention at the sweeping of a massive hand before me. The giant has superior size and strength, but even with the element of surprise, I am swifter than the hand and easily leap over the appendage to the next copper colored roof ahead.

I wince at the twinge of pain that accompanies my right leg as I land, but I do not stop. The exit is almost upon me, and with Stonewall galloping unrivaled below, together, we weave through giants and make our way outside.

No matter how many times I see it, the vastness of such greenery and sky, broken only by speckles of clouds above and dark forest trees below, draws my breath away from me with its painted majesty. The hills seem to roll into the distance with a rocking motion as soft as down, everything from the wind in my hair to the bare earth beneath my feet emanating a beauty and solace that only the height of summer can bring.

Oh how I love this land, this season, this time of warmth and growth and life. It is such a comfort and sight to behold. And the freedom… Oh the freedom it brings! Nothing but kilometers upon kilometers of never ending land and sky to behold and explore. How many years have I spent traversing this vast expanse, only to be surprised by whatever awaits me behind every sturdy stone and within every cool pond of water.

And yet, with all this world, a piece deep inside of me is still discontent. It yearns for the one place where I have grown to love above all others. The place that is as much a part of me as the blood in my veins. With nothing to stop me, I yearn toward home.

I barely allow myself to stop long enough to dislodge from the body of my giant before hopping onto Stonewall's back, and together, we ride. Limply I sit in his saddle, legs dangling loosely around his middle and my arms at rest between my legs. There is no need for me to direct him, for our bond is strong after years of companionship, and he already knows where it is that I wish to go.

…..

It is so peaceful, even after such a strenuous journey, that I fall into a daydream of sorts. The next thing I know, I feel the sensation of Stonewall leaping, and I snap into reality. Clearing the log with ease, Stonewall lands with a soft thud, the sound dampened by the greenery and soil comprising the lower portion of an all too familiar forest.

Home.

The sun is but shimmering, pale yellow shafts sliding through the cool wood, but a brightness colors my chest. Branches, shrubs, and other growing things seem to wave in the breeze as if to embrace me in their soft fronds; birds call into the sky with a victory unlike any other I've ever heard; a hum of an innumerable amount of insects caress me with their musical lull.

Oh how I love this place.

Soon, the physical manifestation of my home appears through sound trunks, and it is only then that I care to recall what all has happened.

My home is in shambles from the storm. The entire entrance is caved in, and the door frame is cracked and crooked. An entire portion of the roof is gone revealing a sizable hole to allow the elements access to the interior. Stone and wood of varying sizes lay in shattered and splintered pieces upon the grass, each a reminder of the horror that befell upon this place only a few days before.

An onslaught of thoughts come to mind, but I instinctually push them away. They are in the past now, and now that I have cut ties with the strangers who were involved, so these memories as well, shall be cut.

It is only me again, and I am thankful that the foreign, discomfited atmosphere that accompanied such strange people has now left. I have been on my own for so long that I find comfort in the silence and isolation.

Not only that, but I need time.

Time to adjust to such a bizarre occurrence. The people were here for a full week, yet in that time, my apprehension and a sort of off-putting feeling never subsided. Not entirely. Seven days is not long enough to grow accustomed to such a dramatic change.

But all of that is not important, and I push such ailing away. My home is in ruin, and there are multitudes of repairs to be done before the next rainfall. Besides, there is no use in thinking of those trivial thoughts. The strangers are long gone now, hidden and safe behind their walls.

It is slim that I shall ever see them again.

….

'_What reason do I have to be here?' _I think again, aghast at where I now find myself.

It has been two months since the strangers left, and as I predicted, I have seen no sight of them. It is just as well, because I do not have an overwhelming desire to see them again. But that does not explain to me as to why I am here.

With a deep contemplation, I look up from where I sit astride Stonewall at the vast wall ahead of me. I am still a good distance away, but even from this many kilometers, I can make out the tiny dots that I know to be people upon the wall, looking like ants as they scurry to and fro doing whatever it is those city people do.

I have found myself coming here to watch them often as of late. Why? What purpose does it serve? I am highly aware that the men up there going about their business have no way of knowing that I am watching, and since I am such a distance away, I can't even discern individual faces.

I have no idea what it is that I am looking for. Or who. I should be at home.

But what awaits me there? The same old routine. Having finished making the necessary repairs to my quarters, there is nothing new or novel to hold my attention. This past month I have fallen back into what I have always done, what I have always known, what I have only known for the past few years.

Once again I've been forced to content myself with the same endeavors: weaving baskets, blankets and whatever else I do not need, growing numerous herbs and vegetables, scouring the forest for feathers to decorate my works, carving the likeness of every animal I can imagine into the wood I have gathered, riding Stonewall along the same familiar trails, sketching scenes from my books, reading, cooking, cleaning, sleeping, eating, sitting, standing… I even dug out my father's old guitar.

It's ALL the same! Nothing has changed! How many times can I unravel and mend the same quilt? How many times can I carve a bird or deer out from a block of timber? How many times can I read the same story? How can I keep repeating the same thing over and over and expect it to keep my attention, to give me fulfillment?

Because none of it does.

I have tried my hardest to divert myself, but no matter how I busy my mind learning the same facts of history I've long ago memorized from my father's history texts, no matter how loudly I sing the songs I learned from my mother, no matter what it is that I do, my thoughts always wander to the strangers. Whenever they come to mind, a most curious emotion envelops me, and it is only when I come to stand and watch those miniscule men atop the wall that I recognize this feeling I have almost forgotten.

I feel lonely.

It's curious indeed, for why should I feel such a way? I should be used to my solitary life, for that is what I have grown to know. I can be alone with my thoughts with no one to badger me, or make me work, or compel me to speak when I do not wish to speak. There is no one to eat up my hard grown food, no one to dirty my meticulously washed garments, no one to dirty my floors or bother me with their habits or take time away from whatever it is I wish to do.

There are no distractions, and that is where my problem originates.

It was… odd… having those strangers here, an experience that I can neither describe as good or bad. But now that I have spent time with them, only for them to leave, suddenly, Stonewall's companionship isn't enough.

This past month, only now do I realize that horses can neither speak back or offer condolences. Stonewall is a brilliant, loyal stallion. He is my pride, strong and unwavering, beautiful in his coat of gray that turns silver in the night. He has been with me for as long as I can remember. I learned to walk because of him, for my mother would tell me of how I used his sturdy legs to steady myself as I walked around him, and all he would ever do was watch me as I went. Whenever I fell, he would offer his muzzle to hang on to as I pulled myself back to my feet again.

Such small gestures have not declined from those far away years. Even now, Stone is the rock beneath my feet. Whenever I suffer bouts of crushing depression, so difficult they can be at times that I forgo eating and hide myself away in a distant tree, he would always find me and nuzzle my head whilst making soft, hardy whinnies to cheer me up. He was always there, even in the pouring rain. He is my closest companion, a being as dear to my heart as the human members of my family.

But not even he can stave this ache in me as I yearn to the wall, and the five people I know to be living behind it.

Like barely uttered secrets, their names come to my tongue, and even after all this time, I have not forgotten them.

Gunther. Easy going and welcoming for the most part. I wonder how his wounded leg is healing up?

Oluo. A temper to match his mouth, and though we never were on good terms, I still wish the man well.

Eld. A man of few words, but such words are never wasted. I miss his constant calm.

Petra. The only woman I have ever known aside from my mother. She was so kind to me, my heart hurts because of it.

Eren. So kind and thoughtful when he wishes to be, and a being after my own heritage. I wonder how his people are treating him. I hope it is with the same kindness he offers so easily.

Levi. A difficult man to be around, but there is an essence in him that is somewhat familiar. He spoke coldly and sparingly, but it really wasn't anything new. Romulus was very much the same.

Those people that so abruptly interjected into my life, those people that are so strange to me, yet I long for their company again. Why is that so?

What brought them to me in the first place?

It was fate, of course. What else could it be?

There is nothing in this world that happens by coincidence, by chance. Everything is lead, one way or another, by some invisible string tugging at it constantly, leading every living creature onto a certain path. Surely, their visit was no different.

Of course not. The timing of their arrival was too convenient.

How many years have I daydreamed of a world filled with people like the ones I read about in my books? I have always been content with isolation, but in the deepest part of me, I have always wondered at these other beings called humans who seem so interesting when described in text. Before they came, I was content with mere daydreams, content with a subtle wishing of the heart that, one day, I would meet such people. I even wished upon a falling star in the childish hope that such a dream could be fulfilled.

Then it did.

There is no coincidence in the timing of such an event, for there is no such thing as coincidence. For them to appear on _that day _in particular, out of the entire year that my wish could be granted, it was _that day. _There is no way that they could have known, but then again, they wouldn't have to.

It doesn't matter if they know that they came to me on the anniversary of my birth. Only fate could have planned that.

It is that thought that has brought me here. That one fact that my futile, childish desire was given to me on the one day my parents always told me was dedicated to the granting of such desires. It is a sign, I'm sure of it.

And yet, as certain as I am of its legitimacy, I hesitate still.

The last time I have ever seen people aside from Levi and his comrades, my family was taken from me. Even now, so many years later, that fear is still very prominent in my being, and with each beat of my heart I can feel the warm rush of apprehension flood me.

Seeing those walls ahead of me manned by unknown people… it terrifies me.

But fate has made it very clear to me that these people are different. They did not wish to harm me, and I even found another human with the same strange ability as my own! What more incentive do I need?

A lot more, it seems, for I continue to just look and watch as Stonewall waits patiently beneath me, waiting for direction. He shifts, and I know he can feel that there is something different about today. He always seems to know when something is wrong.

He watched in silence as I gathered my clothing and folded them neatly into piles in my dresser earlier in the pale dawn. He watched as I cleaned every plate and bowl and piece of silverware I have before putting them in their rightful places. He watched as I put everything I own into boxes and containers, and moved my precious drawings and carvings downstairs to the basement so that the entire house is bare aside from the furniture too large to move. I made sure to put everything away, because I knew that, not only do I need an extra urge to continue forward, I know that, once this act is done…

I won't be going back.

My confidence wavers, and my body feels wriggly under the anxiety of what I know will come next, but I must do this. Didn't I wish to see what people were all about? And now I have the chance, if humanity is willing to have me.

Eren's offer still rings clear as a bell in my mind.

Never would I have thought that I would take such an proposal to heart, yet here I am.

Vaguely, I recall the words of wisdom my father always told me, in regards to doing something new.

'_It is just like learning to fly…' _I tell myself mentally, repeating his words. _'I already have all that I need. All that is required of me is to take that faithful step off the edge.'_

Am I really ready to do this? Of course, when will I ever be ready, if not now? If I hesitate, the moment will be gone, and I will face nothing but a mind plagued with 'what if's and 'what could have been's.

For a moment, I breathe and close my eyes, allowing the gentle brush of summer glide it's warm fingers through my hair.

'_Have faith. Nothing happens my chance.'_

Fate brought me here, of that I am sure. Who am I to question such a divine decree?

And so, after what has seems like hours of wasting away in the sun, I open my eyes and steel a determination deep inside my being.

''_You'll never plough a field by turning it over in your mind.'' _, I tell myself, finding comfort in my father's many proverbs. _'Thinking and meditating gets you nowhere, only action. How will I ever know if this is worthwhile if I merely ponder it over?'_

My body trembles with that instinctual fear that I cannot control, but my spirit and mind are set.

'_Watch me as I go.' _I plead to the memories of my family as I see each of their faces pop vividly in my mind, and I hope that they can hear my prayer from wherever their spirits are.

Without giving myself time to think more of the matter, I clutch Stonewall's mane so hard in my fists that my knuckles turn white an ache from the pressure, and giving just the slightest of pressure to him with my thighs, he begins to trot forward.

Forward toward the unknown.

Forward toward the new and novel.

Forward to the people who so abruptly interrupted my melancholy life.

I am deeply afraid, but my determination doesn't waver.


	2. Chapter 2

**These series of drabbles take place during Avian's childhood to kind of give a glimpse into the relationships she had with each of her family members. She is around age 6.**

These drabbles are told in THIRD PERSON

**Family Bonds**

**Daughters are a Mother's Blessing**

In the height of spring and just before noon, a woman hunches in the dirt over an array of different plant life, each flourishing and green as they grow under her skilled touch. Unbeknownst to her, a smaller body hides in the shadows, watching and waiting with baited breath.

"Another few weeks yet…" the woman mutters to herself, rubbing the leaf of a small herb between her fingers. "The mint should be ready to harvest, but the rosemary…"

The woman stands and moves around to the other side of her garden, closer to where the small being hides, and rests a hand on her hip, appraising her work.

"The ginger looks ready to harvest," she says, taking a step back. "We can take about a third of the rhizomes and replant them near the basil so I can start a second plant…"

Just as the woman bends over to inspect the herb in question, the bushes behind her rustle and a small, quick body leaps out of its fronds. The woman lets out a piercing yelp when the body lands on her back and clings to her whilst letting out an array of strange noises.

"BADGER ATTACK!" the body cries in the middle of vicious sounding snarls before proceeding to 'devour' it's chosen prey.

"CHILD!" the woman yelps back, instinctively reaching back to remove the sudden weight, and though her voice is loud, her face breaks out into a smile. "Be the death of me, you will!"

The woman lets out a sigh as she finally manages to dislodge the body from her and brings it around to her front, only to see a round face beaming back up at her.

"Honestly, Avian. Have you no thing better to do than to terrorize your dear Ma with your wild nature?"

The child in question merely lets out a boisterous laugh from a set of deep ginger hair, large curls bouncing about her features.

"But it's fun!" the girl smiles before reaching up and capturing her mother Generva's face between two small hands. "You should have seen your face! You were so scared!"

"I know I was." Generva says as she sets Avian down. "Rightly have a heart attack with you around."

At her comment, the girl's face falls slightly and concern scrunches her face.

"I didn't scare you too bad did I? I didn't mean too…" she mutters, looking crestfallen until her mother kneels down beside her to lay a gentle hand upon her cheek.

"I know you meant no harm, dear one." She comforts her softly. "Just startled me was all."

"Sorry màthair…" the child apologizes, her voice still low, but her mother just smiles and lifts the girl's head.

"There is no need for formal speech, love." Generva almost croons, lifting her daughter's head with a few insistent fingers. "Look here, what say you about helping me with my herbs? My ginger needs harvesting, and I have not enough hands to gather it all."

At the offer, Avian's blue eyes brighten.

"I wish to help!"

"Very well. Fetch me my basin please. We have a good amount of yield this year."

"Yes, Ma!" Avian smiles, sliding back into common speech, and rushes off around the house, returning moments later toting a metal bucket almost as big as she is.

"Got… it…!" the girl huffs, dragging it behind her, and the girl makes such a curious face from the exertion that Generva lets out a light hearted laugh.

"You mimic your brother's face quite well." She comments and takes the bucket from the girl. "I nary see anything aside from a frown from Romulus."

"That's because he's grumpy all the time." Avian elaborates as she follows her mother to the ginger they are to harvest.

"I understand not why he feels such a way. But such is to be expected from a boy his age I suppose. Perhaps we may lighten his dreary mood with a nice loaf of honey bread."

"Really!?"

At the prospect of bread, a rare treat to be had, Avian lets out an exaggerated gasp and openly gapes up at her mother.

"Yes, now shut your mouth lest a fly make his home in your throat."

The girl swiftly obeys with a quick snap of her teeth gnashing together, and turns to kneel on the ground beside her mother as she begins to carefully work her fingers into the dirt.

"Ginger likes to be harvested from its sides, so take care to leave its innards alone." Generva instructs as Avian follows her example and fearlessly digs her fingers into the soil. "Clear the soil away carefully until you feel the root, then snap off just a nub of it. Restrain from taking too much from one root, as we do not wish for the plant to die."

"Yes Ma."

Without much other instruction, both get to work and begin pulling away small pinches of root. Time passes in a comfortable silence in which Generva keeps one eye on her chore, and the other upon the child beside her.

Inwardly, she is glad that the girl has taken interest to learning about the art of gardening and caring for herbs. Watching the young girl concentrating on her task, her eyes and brows knit together in focus, the woman is reminded solemnly of how, once upon a time, she and her own mother were in the same position. Herb and medicine making is a trade that has been passed down through the daughters of her family for generations, and it fills her heart with pride to see her own daughter striving to follow in her steps.

"A healer we shall make of you yet." She states down to the ginger hair beside her, earning her a smile from the younger.

"Just like you?" the girl questions, to which her mother inclines her head just the slightest bit.

"More so than I." Generva tells her with pride. "You are well on your path to surpassing me, young one, a notion I am elated to see through. It does my heart well knowing you shall flourish with the knowledge I bestow upon you."

Avian watches her mother in reverent silence, able to pick up the gravity of her words even at such a young age, yet her head tilts slightly as she ends.

"What does 'bestow' mean?"

"To give as a gift, or present." Generva explains, very much used to the ritual of defining large words for the young girl. "Such as in the sentence, 'The winner was bestowed a prize.'"

"Oh…"

For a moment, Avian stops working as her eyes look off into the distance, and Generva knows that the child is working to commit the word to memory.

'_And to know she is a child after my own heart as well.' _She muses, intrigued by her daughter's developing interest in words and writing. _'Fluent and elegant her speech shall be, seeing as if she continues to learn.'_

At moments like these, Generva cannot help but gaze in wonder upon the child she once carried, proud and happy to have done the service, even as unexpected as it may have been. It fills her heart with joy to see her youngest child thrive despite the complications related to her birth, and a great ball of worry seems to lift every time Avian smiles, laughs, or runs about in a fit of childish ecstasy.

'_Time has been generous with you, my love. If luck be with us, many years shall you have to grow in intelligence and beauty.'_

As a mother, Generva could not be happier, or prouder, of the three babes she has given her life to nurture and raise. Romulus, her oldest son who is as strong and silent as the mountains, and as reliable as the ground which aids her feet. Tolkien, her middle child with enough energy and optimism to be able to fly a kite with no wind. And her youngest, her dear baby girl, a blessing of luck who is only just beginning to spread her wings in preparation for the future.

'_All of my children, you do your mother proud. I pray that fate may be kind to you, and may wisdom bless you.'_

For the briefest of moments Generva closes her eyes, lost in her own calming thoughts until a tugging upon her blouse stirs her from her musings.

"Yes, dear?" she says, opening her eyes, then she lets out a loud shriek and accidentally falls backwards upon herself.

At her sudden burst of fright, Avian explodes into laughter.

"Aren't they cool!?" she says excitedly and tries to put her fist filled with an array of worms and odd bugs back into her mother's face so she can see. "I found them while you were sleeping!"

"Put those horrid creatures away!" Generva orders curtly, scooting back when Avian only pushes the bugs closer to her face which only earns another round of laughter from the child.

"But look! I even found a rolly-polly! See it!? It's right there!"

Completely unaware of her mother's severe fright, Avian shoves her fist in her mother's direction whilst pointing to a small armored bug crawling his way up her arm.

"Avian! PUT THEM DOWN."

Only after her voice turns severe does Avian take heed of her mother's words, and Generva lets out a held breath as the fist of creepy crawlies backs away.

"Of all things for you to learn from your brother…" she sighs, shaking her head as her heart slowly returns to normal. "Going through it with Romulus was trial enough, why must I suffer again?"

Avian merely lets out another laugh at her mother's expense, making a squinty eyed, toothy grin, and the girl gazes up at the woman with childish adoration.

For all the trouble she puts her through, Avian greatly adores her mother. Everything from her voice, which can switch between being as soft as down to as sharp as a thorn in the blink of an eye, to her cooking, which fills her with satisfied glee after every dinner, and even to her appearance.

Though she has no basis to go by, Avian always believed her mother to be beautiful: the way her face is shaped like a heart, the soft tan of her short cropped hair, the calm jade of her eyes, even her rather tall height are all beautiful in the eyes of her daughter. To Avian, her mother is a hero, able to accomplish so many things that the girl can't even begin to understand. All she knows is how her mother cooks for her, sews clothes for her, has taught her how to read and write, watches over her…

How one person can do so much is beyond her comprehension, yet she does not question it. The bond with her mother is strong, and with every book she reads, whenever a mother makes an appearance, it is always her own mother that she sees.

And so in a fit of happiness and childish spirit, Avian lets out another laugh and rushes to her mother, clutching the woman about her middle and rests her head upon her breast so as Avian may hear her heart.

"I love you Ma." She pronounces suddenly, tightening her grip to which Generva returns the gesture with every ounce of motherly love in her body.

"I love you too, my dear one."

So overwhelmed with compassion is she, that Generva doesn't even notice the damp spot forming on the back of her blouse from where Avian still clutches her handful of slimy worms.

**Rambunctious Brotherly Love**

"Can we go!? Can we go!? Please oh please oh please!"

"If you'd calm down for a second I could actually ask, numskull."

"Hurry! Rom is coming back today and we have to be back before he gets here!"

"I know that, now quit tugging. OUCH! That was my hair!"

"Sorry!"

All Tolkien can do is let out an exasperated sigh and keep his hands firmly around Avian's ankles so she doesn't fall off his shoulders.

"You're ridiculous."

Above him, the small ginger lets out a self-satisfied laugh and rests her arms atop his head, smooshing dark blond hair into his eyes.

"Hey, I can't see! Do you want me to walk into a wall!?"

"YES!"

"Wow, harsh much?"

Nothing but a childish giggle answers him.

Tolkien can't help but shake his head slightly at his sister and, doing his best to see through strands of hair, makes his way through the hall and into the open kitchen where, as usual, his mother stands tending to an assortment of herbs and vegetables that will eventually make their way into their dinner for the night.

"I fail to recall allowing a pair of badgers into my homestead." Generva states without looking up.

"Hey, don't blame me. The only badger I see is small and really annoying."

"Hey!"

Tolkien pretends to flinch in pain when Avian bats him on the head, but before he can do anything else, Avian's mind is already on the next topic, and she suddenly leans over his head in excitement.

"Ma! Ma! Can we go, please oh please oh please!?" Avian bounces in excitement, face a wide smile, and her energy spurs Generva to raise her eyes away from her task.

"To where shall ye go?"

"Avian wants to go…" Tolkien begins to reply, but before he can finish Avian suddenly leans forward again and plasters her hands over his mouth.

"I wanna ask!"

Ignoring her plea, Tolkien easily dislodges Avian's small hands from his face and repeats himself.

"Avian wants to…"

"I WANNA ASK!"

At this, instead of telling her to hush, Tolkien merely blinks, leans back, and forces Avian to slide off his shoulders. The unexpected act forces a squeal, then a long string of giggles, out of the young girl as she falls backwards and hangs upside down against her brother's back with only his grip upon her ankles keeping her aloft.

"As I Was Saying…" Tolkien dramatically begins again, giving the girl dangling behind him a pointed shake before returning his eyes to his mother. "... Avian wants to go to the lake."

"I concur." Generva replies, completely unaffected by her children's antics as she is all too used to their odd behavior. "Assured that you escort her."

"Of course, What else would I be doing?" Tolkien shrugs. "Someone has to make sure Buzzard here doesn't kill herself."

From behind him, Avian lets out an indignant huff and she raises herself up just enough so she can smack the back of his head.

"I am not a buzzard!"

"You sure? You certainly smell like one sometimes."

"You smell too! Like rotten meat!"

"I do not. I think I smell pretty good, thanks."

"Stinky, stinky Tol needs a bath!"

"At least I can wash off. You were just born smelly."

"Was not!"

Before the banter can go on, Generva interrupts by throwing them both a hard look.

"Dispel your insults and still your tongues lest I rip them from your mouths." She warns, instantly hushing Avian, and centers her eyes upon her middle child. "If you wish, then go now 'for I am tempted to change my mind."

Tolkien easily recognizes the change and swiftly nods, suddenly locking his legs together and raising his arm in a mock salute.

"As you command, Grand Màthair!" He bellows, ignoring the complaints of Avian who now dangles only by a single ankle, and makes his way back down the hallway leaving his mother shaking her head in his wake.

"You got exactly thirty seconds to get ready." Tolkien states simply as he reenters their shared bedroom. "After that, I'm leaving."

"Okay!" Avian answers, barely able to control her excitement, and the moment Tolkien sets her on the ground she becomes a flurry of ginger, rushing about the room as Tolkien begins his countdown.

"29…. 28… 27.… 26…."

Avian runs about the room, grabbing up her swimming clothes from her dresser and rushes to fetch her shoes as Tolkien casually makes his way to his bed and slings a pre-packed cloth bag over his shoulder.

"25… 24…. 23…. 22…."

Avian rushes back in, nearly tripping over herself as she hops on one leg while putting her shoe on the other.

"Em hurren! Em hurren!" she tries to say through the left shoe she holds in her mouth, then lets out a gasp as she takes it from her mouth and begins to work on the other foot. "I'm hurrying, please don't leave me!"

Tolkien merely watches her flounder, still counting.

"21… 20… 19… 18… 17… 16…. 15…."

Shoes on, Avian now scrambles to grab up her other things, up to and including a small fish net and jar in the possible prospect of catching something to take home. After taking the items from where they were kept upon one of shelves on her bookcase, the girl flounders to stuff them all in her bag. Seeing that she's almost done, her brother suddenly starts to the door.

"10-9-8-6-4-2-0-BYE!"

Avian can only let out a sound of great distress as he waves at her over his shoulder and makes his way out.

"WAIT FOR ME TOLKIEN!"

Behind him, all the boy can hear is the rapid stomps of feet upon the floor and something running into the wall pretty hard as the girl rushes to chase after him. By the time she finally runs and catches up, he's already making his way down the trail behind their home.

"You left me!" Avian huffs as she waddles up beside him, glaring up at him while doing her best to keep her towel from dragging the ground.

"I didn't leave you. You're just too slow." He shrugs back at her easily, slightly amused by her sour attitude.

"Am not…."

Her argument is all but a grumbled whisper as Avian keeps her eyes fixed firmly upon the yawning trail ahead. Soon enough nothing but green surrounds them, and the calls of numerous birds and the rustling of rodents in the brush lull any remaining annoyance from her mind. Avian has always loved the outdoors; all the plants that grow along their path, the shards of sunlight that pierce the dense canopy above them, the chorus of nature singing about her, the crinkle of leaves beneath her feet… Everything is a joy to the child, and the entire way to their destination, Avian is lost in it.

The only thing that stirs her out of her thoughtful daze is an unexpected hand upon her head.

"Still awake there? Don't tell me you're sleepwalking." Tolkien jibes, roughly messing up her hair, much to her displeasure.

"I'm awake! And stop it! Why do you always mess up my hair!?" she pouts and slaps his hand away, glowering at him as she tries in vain to run her fingers through ginger locks to straighten them.

In answer, Tolkien gives her a shrug and smirk, his signature answer to everything.

"It's fun." He says simply as if he can't understand why she would ask such a thing. "Besides, I figured I'd wake you up before you walk straight into the water and drown. Mom would kill me."

At the slap comment, Avian looks about ready to argue with him, but catches herself when a sliver of reflection shines through the trees. Instantly the girl breaks into a run, hurdling down the rest of the trail all the while avoiding tripping on her towel, and she nearly runs headfirst into water.

Once out of the trees, a calm body of water rests before her, it's waves mellow and inviting. Though it isn't large by any means, to the child, her mind sees it as endless and bottomless, and at the thought of it she lets out an exuberant sound of delight.

Without another thought and without giving her brother time to catch up, Avian unceremoniously tosses her things to the ground and makes a mad dash for the shore. With a practiced leap that takes her farther that what you would expect, her laughter is cut off by a splash of cool water, and once she is submerged, Avian knew bliss.

Unlike Tolkien, the natural water does not hurt her eyes, and she gazes at the watery world around her, surveying the silt covered bottom just below where a small school of tiny fish swim about in energetic bursts, startled by the new body that so suddenly appeared by them.

She stays down there, keeping herself submerged with practiced, easy strokes of her arms until, after a minute or so, she returns to the surface.

"I saw fish Tolkien!" she yells excitedly as the boy in question lazily places his stuff as well as hers at the base of a tree.

"You sure they were fish? Might have just been your reflection."

"Says you!" Avian replies, sticking her tongue out at him while he busies himself with removing his shirt.

But in her excitement, the girl just can't help but break into a smile again and swim closer to shore.

"Hurry up Tol!" she cries to him. "Come swim with me!"

"Give me a minute!"

"Swim! Swim! Swim!"

Tolkien sighs at his sister's insistent chanting and he throws her a hard stare, hushing her, as he tosses his shirt upon his bag. For a moment he just glares at her, both siblings completely silent. Then in a flash of sudden movement, Tolkien bursts into a run.

"DIVEBOMB INCOMING!"

Pelting at a full sprint, Avian lets out a shriek as Tolkien leaps into the air, knees pulled up to his chest, and body slams into the water only a foot away from her, throwing up a great wave of water and spray. Forcing his way up and throwing his head out of the water, messing up his perpetual blond cowlick, Tolkien bursts into laughter at his young sister's wide-eyed face.

"You almost landed on me!"

"Nah… you're too small to hit. You're just mad that I can leap farther than you."

"Nah-uh!"

"Uh-hu!"

In response, Avian splashes him in the face.

"I leap farther, you log-head!"

Tolkien dodges the sudden spray, blocking his face with his arms, before opening them slightly and smirking at the ginger between them.

"Of really? Tough words for such a little annoyance. Wanna fight me for it then, Buzzard? Winner gets title of Farthest Leaper."

At the challenge, Avian grins and propels herself forward, her small body lending a surprising amount of strength in water as she leaps at him and grabs him about his back.

"You're on!" she announces, using her entire body to try and submerge her brother's head into the water, though she is so light he doesn't even budge.

Tolkien lets out a mocking laugh at her flimsy attack and reaches behind him to grab her.

"You're gonna need to try harder than that!"

And so the two lock themselves in a vicious battle; the younger fighting valiantly with every ounce of strength and agility her tiny body can offer, and the older buffing her attacks with easy resilience and mock counters. Back and forth the two wage war, not afraid to scream, splash, and dunk the other to victory, but after a great deal of time, Tolkien finally ends it.

With a greatly exaggerated yell, he sweeps his arms under Avian, who was rapidly swimming toward him for another attack, and lifts her high into the air. All she can do is squeal and clutch to his arm, but such an act is feeble when he lets out a great grin.

"SISTER BOMB!"

Shrieking, Avian closes her eyes and draws in a great breath just before Tolkien throws her up and she lands heavily back into the water with a loud clap. After a few seconds, Avian makes her way back to the surface, swings her wet hair out of her face, only to find her brother nonchalantly flexing his arms and looking very pleased with himself in light of his triumph.

"I believe it's safe to say that I won." He smirks while raising a brow at her, to which Avian huffs and crosses her arms.

"That's not fair." She pouts which only causes her brother to laugh even more.

"Life isn't fair, Buzzard." He shrugs, turning his back to her, then waves her off as he steps toward shore. "Besides, now that I've claimed my rightful title I have no reason to fight you anymore, so you go and have fun. I'm gonna read."

"Fine. I will!" she sassily replies back, waggling her head as Tolkien takes a hard seat against a tree trunk and begins drying his hair.

"Cool." Is all he says back, drying himself off before draping his towel over his shoulders and pulling out a novel and opening it to his desired page. "Just don't drown. I don't feel like dragging your waterlogged carcass all the way back home."

"Glad you're so nice to me Tol…"

"I do my best."

With that, each sibling go their separate ways, Tolkien to his literature and Avian to her watery playground. Though they do not interact for the next couple hours, each find enjoyment in their respective tasks and neither fully pushes the other out of their mind. His words may come out easily and sound indifferent at times, but Tolkien truly does keep an eye on his younger sibling while he reads. And likewise, Avian always has an eye on her brother, in the hopes that he will see her when she practices her back flips, or catches an annoyingly slippery frog.

After a while, Avian becomes bored in her lone adventures and comes ashore to investigate Tolkien's engrossed reading. When she does, Tol casts her an appraising eye.

"Finally got bored floundering around?"

"I do not 'flounder', Tolkien. I 'swim'!" the girl replies swiftly, miffed that he always downplays her aquatic skills as they are the only thing she is really good at.

"Whatever makes you happy." He shrugs back, then cocks his head to the side. "Hey, don't freak out, but I got you something."

At this, Avi's eyes grow wide.

"What?"

"A surprise. Wanna see it?"

"YES! YES! YES!"

The ginger bounces up and down upon her heels in excitement and claps her hands, all the while Tolkien keeps a steady gaze upon her.

"You sure you want it?" he inquires more. "REALLY REALLY want it? It won't be what you expect."

"Come on Tol! What is it!?"

"Alrighty then…"

For a moment, Tolkien holds the gaze of his excited sister, struggling to keep his face straight, then raises his arm.

"Catch!"

A small… something flies out of his hand and lands on the girl. Avian steps back and gazes down at the new dark spot upon her stomach, trying to determine just what it is, and when she does, she lets out an ear shattering shriek.

At the sound, Tolkien bursts into laughter as Avian shrieks again and turns into a flurry of terrified limbs as she swats at herself, slinging the hairy spider somewhere far, far away. Even after the hideous creature is gone, the girl continues to scream and run her hands over every bit of body as if she could feel even more of them upon her.

After a moment or two of desperate, fear fueled thrashing, Avian finally calms down enough to whirl on her brother.

"I HATE YOU TOLKIEN!" she screams at him with anger filled tears, unimaginably furious. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?"

Her rage only causes immature Tolkien to keel over in more mocking laughter, delighted over his 'prank', and smiles at her.

"'Cause it's fun to see you freak out. You should have seen the look on your face! I thought your eyes were gonna bulge right out of your skull, ha!"

The boy falls into another round of laughter, unaffected by his sister's heated glare.

"YOU'RE A MEANIE!" she screams at him again, stomping her foot. "A BIG, FAT, STUPID, SMELLY, FISH-FACED MEANIE! I HOPE YOU DIE IN A HOLE!"

With that, she storms off and firmly takes a hard seat on a stone near the lake shore , her back facing resolutely toward Tolkien.

"Ah, come on. It's a joke." Tolkien continues, wiping his eyes and finally bringing an end to his laughter. "Take it easy. It's not like it was gonna bite you or anything."

Avian curtly ignores him and glares out into the waves.

At her silence, Tol just sighs and rummages through his bag before pulling out a small tome, which he waves in the air.

"Quit being a baby and come over here. I brought your favorite book for us to read." He entices, unbothered by Avian's anger. "It's the one about the wolf. I promised I'd read it to you, remember?"

Once again the girl keeps her silence, and this time, Tolkien's easy smile begins to fade.

'_I didn't make her that mad, did I?'_

But as he watches her and falls silent, he can just catch the sound of her hiccupping crying, and at the sound the last of his joy dissipates. A twinge of regret now spurts in his chest.

"Hey… you alright?" he calls out to her softly, leaning to try and get a look at her face, and fails. "You're not crying are you?"

For the third time Avian ignores him, and Tolkien's chest begins to ache.

'_I really did make her mad…'_

All he was trying to do was mess with her, like he always does. It's common place for him to threaten her with one of the eight legged creatures just to get a cheap laugh, but he never actually forced her to touch one until now. Seeing his sister's huddled form a few meters away, he now realizes that he went too far in his antics, and his regret only grows.

Easing himself up carefully from his spot, he slowly makes his way over to her and crouches beside her.

"Hey…"

Avian turns her head away from him, but not before he catches the glimmer of wetness upon her cheeks.

"Hey…" he repeats again, softening his voice. "…I'm sorry. That was my bad. I went too far with that."

Silence.

"Come on… I was only playing around. Don't do this to me Avi… I'm really, REALLY sorry. You're right, I AM a big, fat, stupid, smelly fish-faced meanie. But I want to make it up to you."

Avian still refuses to turn her head, but she does shift slightly, which gives Tolkien a bit of hope. Bringing the book still in his hand in front of him, Tolkien gently waves it, peering around to try and see her face.

"Ya know… It's no fun reading by yourself. And there are some words I need help pronouncing. Think you can help me with that? You ARE the expert on this book, aren't you?"

Still silence, but after a few tense seconds, the girl finally brings around her head and glances at her brother with disbelieving eyes.

"You're gonna throw another spider at me, aren't you." She accuses, and Tolkien swiftly shakes his head.

"No! No spiders, I promise. That was really mean of me, and I'm sorry. I just want to read with you."

Avian continues to stare at him for a long while, deciding whether to trust him or not, but after a while she eventually concedes and gives him a small nod.

"Okay."

At her answer, her brother gives her a small smile and helps her stand. Without another word, he leads her to their stuff and he sits down at the trunk, Avian sitting in his lap.

"Alright, where were we?"

"Chapter three…"

"Okay. You want me to start?"

"Yes…"

"Alright then…"

And so he begins, and after the first few sentences, whatever doubt Avian held fades away, and she follows along with her brother, eyes scanning page after page with his. She becomes lost in the sound of Tolkien's voice as he tells the story, glad that he puts effort into its telling. He get soft when it's sad, excited when it's tense, loud when it's filled with action, and mellow when it's calm. Somehow, he brings the story to life in her ears and in her mind, and all her attention is always focused upon the next word, the next sentence, the next paragraph and page and chapter.

Before either of them know it, the sun begins to set upon their reading, so drawn in by tales of battles, losses and, sometimes, even victories. After so many hours of sitting, however, Tolkien begins to feel the irresistible urge to move again, never able to sit in one spot for long. And so, as he reads aloud a grand fight between the wolf and a lynx, he tenses.

"The cub felt the prod of the life that was in him," Tolkien reads, "and stood up and snarled valiantly by his mother's side. But she thrust him ignominiously away and behind her. Because of the low-roofed entrance the lynx could not leap in…"

Tolkien tenses while Avian sits in his lap, oblivious to what's about to come.

"… and when she made a crawling rush of it…" the boy speaks lowly, and only when Avian leans forward in anticipation, he swiftly grabs her up, tossing the book away.

"THE SHE-WOLF SPRANG UPON HER AND PINNED HER DOWN!"

Avian lets out a loud, delighted squeal as Tolkien snags her and assaults her with ticklish fingers about her belly. They wrestle, Avian squealing and Tolkien snarling just like the wolf in the story, until he suddenly stands and lets out a bellow of triumph.

"TOLKIEN WINS AGAIN!" he announces proudly, arms stretched wide where, and firmly grasped in his left hand, Avian dangles once again by a single ankle.

"Put me down!" she half squeals, half giggles, desperately grabbing for him.

"I don't think so, ravenous lynx! I've won with this battle!"

Both fall into a round of laughter, the girl's face turning ultra red from being dangled upside down, until a steady voice interrupts them.

"So it was two idiotic worms fighting that I heard…"

Opening their eyes, both turn to see their oldest sibling Romulus standing a few meters away, a string of rabbits strewn over his shoulder and his calm face leveled at them with just the tiniest hint of exasperation. At the sight of his brother, Tolkien lifts up Avian even higher and motions to her with a nod.

"Oi, Rom! Look what I caught! Great isn't it!?"

At the question, Rom stares at the still giggling Avian as if appraising her then, after a tense second, he turns toward the trail leading home.

"Too scrawny." He answers mildly without another glance. "Throw it back."

Tolkien shrugs.

"Whatever you say."

With a final shriek, Tolkien unceremoniously tosses Avian back into the lake, where she lands with a loud splash.

"Hey Rom! Wait up!"

The blond headed boy doesn't bother looking back as he gathers his things and follows Rom down the trail, causing Avian to rush and catch up. By the time she does, the two brothers are deep into conversation, and the girl is left to watch them.

They may fight often, and he may be very talented at making her mad, but Avian cannot help but smile up at her more vocal brother as he talks, always so animated and full of energy. Of everyone in her family, Tolkien is the most fun to be around, and he is the easiest to talk to.

'_Plus, he's pretty…'_

Though 'pretty' isn't the word she is looking for, Avian has always been enraptured by her brother's looks. Though still in his thirteenth year, he is just beginning to gain some height on him, and the fatness of youth is beginning to leave his face, leaving it sharp and mature. Even after rough-housing and playing in the water, his dark blond hair has long since dried and perked back up into its usual perpetual cowlick, an asset that greatly brings out his shining blue eyes and ever bright smile. Though she doesn't know consciously, she is aware of just how handsome he is, and there have been times where he has smiled so brilliantly at her that she couldn't help but blush at him.

To her, he is the living incarnation of the 'prince charming' she has read about in fairy tales; men who are charming, confident, attractive, and skilled. He has no qualms in showing his emotions, whatever they may be, and unlike Rom, Tolkien is never hesitant to show brotherly love out in the open.

Just like now as they walk, the blond turns to look at his sister, who is still staring up at him in wonder, and in response he lets loose his signature grin and ruffles her hair.

"You know, now that all the dirt has washed off, you're actually pretty cute for a buzzard…"

"I AM NOT A BUZZARD!"

And just like that, the prince charming persona is gone.

**Silent Protector**

Avian always loved the rain. Something about the sound of it tapping against the windows and leaves in a soft melody of sound, the coolness it brings in the height of summer, or the way the world smells after a nice, long shower, whatever the reason may be, the phenomena has always comforted her, and it was not uncommon for her to lay awake in bed just to listen to it.

But this night is different. Unlike most of the year, spring brings about a very different side to the rain that the young girl has yet to grow accustomed to. Instead of the gentle downpour she has grown to love, fat drops of heavy rain smash into the window with abnormal force, and even through the stone walls of her home she can hear the howling of wind and the creaking of trees.

Avian likes the rain, but doesn't like storms.

It's just weather, but the girl is still at a young enough age to where such trivial things stir in her a mix of wonder and fear. On one hand, rain still falls, though a little harder, and it intrigues her as to how so much water can stay up in the sky. Yet on the other hand, storms and heavy rain bring with them a couple of fearful companions in the form of gusts, lightning, and it's louder brother, thunder.

For the most part, the girl isn't afraid of it. She has always wondered what it was that creates such great noises, like the rolling of a gigantic ball or the footsteps of a towering giant. Thunder is much more intimidating than its brother, but the majority of the time, it does not boast its bellowing voice so the girl had no reason to be afraid. But this night she lays awake, unable to sleep due to the deep rumbling just beyond her window.

A flash of light brightens the sky, strong enough to illuminate the entirety of her room for a split second before going dark again. Somehow, both of her brother's lay asleep in their beds, unaffected by the storm brewing just outside, and Avian cannot help but be jealous of their assurance. She yearns for sleep, but every time she closes her eyes, a booming clap snaps her back awake and leaves her quaking under her sheets.

Loud noises seem so much scarier at night.

Another great flash of light breaks the darkness, and soon after, Avian covers her head as its accompanying bang splits the sky before grumbling away into silence.

"Sleep."

At the unexpected voice, the ginger headed girl uncovers herself and, through the murky gloom, barely makes out the form of her oldest brother Romulus turned to face her.

"I can't…" she mutters, shaking her head slightly though he cannot see it.

"Try. You keep me awake."

There is no accusation in his low voice, but Avian cannot help but feel embarrassed and guilty for waking him with her constant squirming.

"Okay…"

Rom answers her by turning back over and letting the room fall back into silence. Hard rain still pelts the window to their room hard enough to sound like little rocks, but the girl does her best to obey her brother by snuggling deeper into her covers and firmly clamping her eyes shut.

And for a while, it works. The storm does not let up, but the rolls of thunder are rather muted and subdued, and as her heart begins to slow, her eyes begin to grow heavy. Sleep tickles her mind, and the steady drumming of rain lulls her deeper into relaxation.

Yet as luck will have it, the storm has a nasty prank up its sleeve, for just as Avian begins to fall into a doze, the room flashes with brilliant white so strong it forces her awake again. For a moment, Avian stares drearily at the wall suddenly illuminated by a huge bolt of lightning, not quite awake enough to make sense of it. But that swiftly changes as a thunderous, powerful crack explodes in the sky, so loud and great that the window pane clatters and the frame of her bed shakes in its force.

Cold fear shoots through her tiny body, and she lets out a yelp and curls up into a ball so tight her knees push against her head and her limbs shake. She has never felt thunder strong enough to shake her entire room, and the simple fact that mere sound can cause such a thing to happen spurs her into a silent panic.

In her wild, childish mind, the bellows change from a simple noise made by weather to the voice of a raging monster, each subsequent crack, rumble, and shaking of ground all evidence of its rampage.

Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of such a monster coming for her, just they do in her children's books, and she lets out a low, fragile whine.

Drowned out by the sound of heavy rainfall, the girl doesn't hear Romulus let out a drawn sigh as he sits up in his bed. From his vantage point, his sister is nothing but a small mass beneath her sheets, so tiny she could be mistaken for a misplaced pillow.

Having just returned from an exceptionally lengthy hunting excursion, he is beyond tired, and yearns for nothing more than sleep. But no matter how hard he tries, he just can't seem to push the sounds of his distressed sibling out of his mind, and so with grudging waver, he calls out to her.

"Avian."

At his voice, the girl is almost afraid to answer, knowing it was her fault that he was woken up again.

'_He's going to get mad at me.' _She worries, and decides the best course of action is to remain under her covers.

"Avian…."

Silence.

Rom lets out another sigh, rubbing a large hand over his face, and forces himself out of bed. The next thing Avian knows is the covers being pulled off of her, and the body of her brother looming over her.

"Rom…" she meekly looks up, very much expecting a back lashing for her continued noisemaking.

Much to her surprise, however, instead of answering her, Romulus merely crouches down and picks her up. The girl can only blink at his unexpected gesture as he returns with her to his bed, and without letting her go, climbs in and draws warm sheets over them both.

All Avian can see now is the subdued white of his shirt, and she can just barely feel his chin resting above her head. For a long time, she just lays there in wonder at this sudden change of events.

It isn't that he does not care, no, Romulus is far from uncaring, but to show outwardly affection, especially physical affection, is a rare occurrence. It has been many years since he has willingly hugged, and many more years before then that he last spoke endearingly to his family. Such things are just not part of his character.

Avian knows very well that her brother is not detached, or ungrateful, or unloving. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Avian knows Romulus to be a very loving, affectionate man, given you know where to look. Evidence of his bonds can be seen mostly in his gestures: his sole providence of meat for one, a toil that he took on completely voluntarily at a young age, the sporadic completion of chores that no one asked him to do, the sharing of his most prized catches, even his constant participation in the family gatherings they have ever night, though most of his interaction is comprised of watching silently and playing the guitar.

Romulus is a hardworking, thoughtful man of few words; nothing more, nothing less.

And so, with all that knowledge, it's natural for Avian to feel very surprised by her brother's sudden gesture. Never before has he done something like this, and as strange as it is, it's a good kind of strange. The girl shifts slightly, feeling curiously aware of how close she is to him, and her eyes latch onto his arm draped lazily over her small body.

Even in the dark she can clearly make out the ridges and valleys of muscle, large and strong after many years of hunting and gathering on his own. If it's one thing Romulus has to call his own, it's his strength. Only sixteen years of age, he is already taller and stronger than anyone Avian has ever known, including their father. She has lost count of how many times he has single-handedly felled great oaks with an axe, or hauled full grown deer miles through rugged forest and over hills after spending a week out in the wilderness.

In her mind, Romulus is unbreakable. Never has she seen him grow tired after working all day. Never has she heard him gasp for breath or bow in exhaustion. Never has she witnessed him find something he couldn't lift or split or carry. Even his character is unshakable: having never exclaimed in sudden pain, having never exploded with anger, having never shed a single tear… He is a wonder to her, an unreal being who knows no fear.

Unconsciously Avian moves, slow and deliberate, and she gently places both her hands around the bulk of his arm, her fingers extended as far as they can go. Yet no matter how hard she strains, her fingertips don't even come close to touching.

"What are you doing?"

His voice is calm, deep but mellow, and Avian looks up to see forest green eyes staring down at her from a neat mop of dark brown hair.

"You're arms are really big." She replies before returning her gaze to his arm. "Even bigger than Da's."

Romulus says nothing above her as she busies herself with examining his limb with childish curiosity, poking and prodding and squeezing as if it is some kind of toy. So lost is she in her wonder that Avian completely forgets about the raging weather outside until, once again, a great crack splinters the sky. The girl jumps as the sound shakes the entire house, louder than ever, and her heart leaps into her throat.

She wants to cry, as all children do when they are frightened, but before the sobs can work their way up, Romulus moves. The arm she was messing with before shifts and wraps around her, drawing her closer to him, and another unseen hand gently captures the back of her head.

"I got you."

It's such a simple phrase, short and blunt, but from it Avian's tears still upon her eyes. His thumb plays softly upon her head, just a minute movement, but it does wonders to calm the rapid thrumming of her chest. Like this, with her face in his chest, the world is all but hidden, limited to the strength of his arms and the cloth of his shirt. The scent of him reaches her, a mix of the smell of woods and growing things, and underneath her ear lies the steady beat of his heart, calm and strong.

Wrapped up like this, Avian's own heart begins to still and tension leaves her body. Like this, she knows nothing can harm her. Romulus will protect her, just as he has always done. He was the one to rescue her when she became stuck in a tree after climbing too far. It was he who sat behind her and held her as she was just beginning to learn to ride a horse. It was he who cradled her when she felt fear bite into her the first time a badger came across her path, and it was he who fought it creature away, completely unafraid.

Safe. She felt safe.

Avian wraps her fingers around the fabric of his shirt, the girl having always been one to want to hold something in her hands whenever she is upset. Sleep tugs at her and slowly, hesitantly, her eyes begin to close.

The constant thumb brushing against her hair doesn't stop, even long after she falls asleep.

**Best Friends**

"Hey! Hold on! Let.. Oof! Calm down! He-… hey Stone, cut it out!"

Her words are harsh, but Avian can't help but laugh at the antics of the horse she is attempting to feed, but against her insistent instruction, he doesn't wait for her to pour his feed into his trough and instead insists on sticking his entire muzzle into her bucket, nearly knocking her over.

"You big oaf! You aren't supposed to eat from this!"

But try as she might, the animal fails to listen to her and, in the end, she puts the bucket down and lets the horse have his way, spilling his meal all over the grass and plucking it up with eager lips and teeth.

"No wonder you're so fat…" Avian mumbles, watching until the horse is done, then gets out a giggle as he once again pushes his muzzle into her small body in the search for more food. "That's it! Stop it, silly! I don't have any more!"

In response, Stonewall gives her one last shove about her hands, giving them a good look and sniff before raising his great head and turning away.

"Oh stop pouting, you baby." Avian chides him playfully to which Stone merely flicks an ear as if annoyed she hadn't brought him something else. "You have the WHOLE woods to eat! Isn't that enough!?"

As if he can understand her, Stone once again flicks his ear dismissively and solidly taps a large, feathered hoof.

"Greedy."

Avian gives her companion a long stare, challenging him to 'say' something more, but when he doesn't she lets out a satisfied huff and motions to him.

"I thought so." She says, reaching up touch his shoulder and gain his attention. "Now, since you're fed, let's give you a bath, okay? You really need it…"

Standing on the very tips of her toes, the girl softly grabs what all she can reach of him, in this case a lock of his long mane, and gently leads him around to the rear of her home where a large basin filled with water already waits. At the sight, the horse under her touch gives a shake in his withers.

"I know it's going to be cold, but you're really dirty from the mud you played in yesterday."

It takes some firm leading, and a bit of sweet talk, but eventually Stone concedes to his rider's wishes. Since it's the only the girl can even get close to being able to reach all of him, the animal sighs and lays down in the grass, not putting up much resistance as the girl goes about rubbing every inch of his dappled gray coat with soap and cloth. Once done with his back, Avian prompts him to stand again and spends another good deal of time scrubbing stubborn, dried mud from his legs and scooping it out from the hollow of his hoof.

After an hour or so of rigid cleaning, the ginger finally tossed her filthy rag into the basin and lets out a sigh.

"All done! Now don't you feel better?"

In response, Stonewall gives a great shake and sprays drops of water everywhere, dousing the girl with liquid.

"Hey!" Avian shouts, mimicking her steed by shaking herself, and she glares up at him. "

Stonewall lets out a long, resonant whinny as if mocking her then, with a taunting toss of his head, turns and gallops away. Avian automatically follows, and chases after him.

"That's not nice!" she laughs, pelting after the young stallion. "Get back here!"

The girl reaches out with lanky arms but the horse easily sidesteps away. He looks back at her, always making sure he isn't too far ahead, and throws his massive head back as he gives another whinny. At her approach, the stallion dances on his legs, making little, playful hops before galloping away at the last second to avoid her grasp.

Though he is full grown, the horse is still a young stallion, and he finds much enjoyment in teasing his master with jesting knickers and sassy swooshes of tail, not quite grown into calm mental maturity. Just the same, Avian has yet to realize her own maturity as well, the child still abundant in youthful energy and charisma. With the two combined, the confident stallion and energetic child, with no other company than each other, have formed an unmistakable bond akin to the ones Avian has for family. As she runs about chasing after the prancing animal, she cares not that her best friend is only an animal of burden. With no experience or knowledge of people outside the small family she keeps, the girl is perfectly content with sharing her life with Stonewall, and Stonewall, having no experience or knowledge of any of his kind outside the trees in which he roams, is also content with sharing his life with Avian.

So in that way, an odd balance of connection has formed where each consider the other more family than friend, despite being completely different species. They communicate without words, a phenomena that neither understand, but do not care to investigate. To them, there is nothing odd about the bond they share: they grew up together, the stallion being her senior by only a year, and Stonewall was just as much of a witness to Avian's growth as her human family.

To him the girl is a sibling, a precious playmate of whom he loves and does not judge. He cares not that the girl chases him and sometimes yanks on his tail fur by accident. He does not mind the uncomfortable struggle he endures while the girl climbs atop him for a ride. He enjoys following her around as she flitters about, galloping with her when she is about catching fireflies, and lays down beside her when she reads to him. The horse does not understand most of her words, but he has always loved her energy and her voice, so full of adoration and love and playful jest.

Since the passing of his parents in years past, Stonewall has known no family other than the girl to which he belongs. The other humans to which she is kin are just as well, but it is the youngest of which he as the closest bond. He loves nothing more than the feeling of her tiny body astride his back, or the soft touch of her hands upon his muzzle. Being an animal who needs companionship to survive, he adores every caress and pet and scratch Avian gives him, the physical interaction always constant in warming his spirit.

Even now as he gazes contently into the darkening greenery of the forest he likes to roam, the warmth of the child is upon his side. Bringing his head around, he gives the girl a careful sniff, but refuses to dislodge her from where she had fallen asleep against his shoulder while in the middle of braiding flowers into his mane. She has been there for a while, since the sun began to set, and his legs are beginning to become uncomfortable underneath him. But instead of shifting and risking the chance of disturbing her, Stonewall keeps true to his namesake: unmoving, steady, and strong.

"Avian, supper is ready!"

At the voice, Stone's head lifts and he can just barely see the dark form of Avian's father, Reid, from where he stands in a soft yellow doorway. When his daughter doesn't reply, Reid steps out and kneels beside the girl and the horse, his eyes gentle as he gazes upon them.

"Done 'er right, you did." The man tells the stallion with heavy accent before giving the animal an affectionate bush of hand over his muzzle. "You watch over 'er like a third brother. You have my thanks."

With a final pat, Reid removes the child from Stonewall's side, allowing the steed to stand and follow close behind them as they make their way back inside. Just outside the door, Stone stops and gives the girl one last investigating sniff.

At his action, Reid lets out a hefty laugh and pulls out a small apple from his pocket.

"Keep it up and you'll rightly put me to shame, and strike me dead the day I let a horse be more of a father than I."

Stonewall has no way of understanding the man, but at the presentation of the fruity treat, the stallion's dock raises in delight and he swiftly takes of it, knowing he has done well.

"Good horse. Grown into a right stallion you have. You do your Ma proud, Stonewall."

With that ending statement, Stone just catches a glimpse of his sleeping master's face before Reid enters the house and closes the door. For a moment, the horse stands there, staring at the wood as if he could see right through it, but after a second or two he gives himself a great shake and proceeds to head into the wild in search of something to hold his attention until Avian wakes and comes to him tomorrow.

**Seamair**

'_It isn't fair. It just isn't!'_

And yet for all her thrashing and indignant mulling, Avian cannot help the tears that spring in her eyes.

She sits in her room upon her bed, just a huddle of violent emotion, though she has no real idea why. She's always known that lying was wrong, and that, in the back of her mind, she knew that one day her family would become fed up with her behavior. So why is she feeling like this? A mixture of anger and guilt.

She hates making her parents mad, she really does. The sterner of the two, her mother was the first to confront her daughter about her prevalent problem and, though she is never degrading or insensitive, Generva has always been an outspoken woman who knows how to speak her mind without being afraid to do so. She is a solid enforcer of manners and discipline, and she has a way with language that easily cuts to the soul.

Her father, Reid, though not as outspoken is just as stern. His words are fewer, but his voice carries in it his disappointment. Along with his voice, the laugh lines around his eyes harden, his gaze even more so, and he has a talent for inflicting punishment upon the spirit with a mere glance. While his wife is the voice of discipline, he is the body; formidable and intimidating in silence.

Together they are a force to be reckoned with, and having been born a person highly sensitive to anger, Avian has always feared their parental power. And it is that fear that fuels her now, in addition to other emotions that her little mind and heart can't comprehend.

Prompted by these emotions, the girl yearns for nothing more than to get away, to angry to stay in her room, yet too ashamed to face the disappointed faces of her family. So with nowhere else to go, the ginger nimbly climbs atop one of her brother's beds and slips out the window. At the sound of her dropping onto the grass Stonewall, who was nonchalantly picking apart weeds a few meters away, lifts his head and, as he watches his young owner step stealthily into the woods, he instinctively follows.

Once surrounded by greenery and shadows, the girl breaks into a run, skirting down a narrow trial with surprisingly nimble steps. With these very woods being her personal playground since she was young, Avian traverses knots of roots and uneven ground with practiced ease, not stopping until her home is well out of sight.

Slowing to a walk, hooves upon earth greet her ears and a second later, Stonewall comes up beside her, giving her an investigating look with dark, intelligent eyes.

"They hate me." She tells them through tight lips and, though she knows what she is saying isn't true, it helps to vent some of her anger. "They got mad at me, and I hate it."

Once again, Avian realizes that there is no one for her to blame except herself. The girl knew her constant fibs would one day get her into a heap of trouble, but she always justified her lies with childish reason. They hurt no one, so why is it bad? So what if she lied about certain things to make herself seem as capable and talented as her brothers? She meant no harm, and she only did so to fill in the void that she felt when comparing her own abilities to theirs.

'_I just want to be special like them too… but they got angry with me, and they all look so disappointed…'_

It kills her little heart to see her family look at her in such a way, especially her brothers, the two people of whom she admires most. Her father and mother are wonderful, and the girl cares for them deeply, but it is something about Romulus and Tolkien that she has always admired and adored. They are her protectors, her teachers, her best friends. In her mind, they are capable of doing anything, and for as long as she can remember, Avian has always wanted to be as strong and talented as them.

But she isn't. She's small and weak and clumsy. Her childish hands lack the dexterity of which she desires, and her body is still lanky and awkward like that of a child's. Right now, she's physically incapable of doing the things she sees her brothers do. She can't wield an axe or string a bow like Rom, nor can she tie fishing knots or shingle a roof like Tol. In her eyes, they are both experts at whatever task they are given, and her… she still struggles.

The fact of age never comes to Avian's mind, though that gap is the very reason for her distress. Being born so distant from them, seven years from Tolkien and ten years from Romulus, of course she would look amateur compared to them. But being a child, such a notion goes right over her head, so she is left with nothing but frustration and sadness regarding her own failings.

Avian continues to walk for a very, very long time, much past the point where she knows she is not supposed to go. Never has she ever ventured this far away from home, but it is for good reason, for out in the wilds Romulus hunts, and where he hunts, he lays traps.

She knows she isn't supposed to be here, but at this moment, the child fears her family more than she does the unknown, and so with her horse beside her, she keeps walking.

And walking.

And walking.

So far has she walked that the trail she had been following ended long ago, and all that she treads on now is a narrow deer path winding through thick green bushes and dark brown trunks. Without paying much mind to where she is going, she automatically follows the overgrown path, Stonewall right at her heels, and she doesn't pay attention to the placement of her feet.

Perhaps if she had been more vigilant, she would have spotted it, but on the other hand, Romulus is a brilliant hunter and hides his traps well. So the outcome could have gone either way, but in this instance, fate has deemed it worthy to take the more ruthless path.

Rounding a bend by a group of young saplings, Avian misses the glint of silver shimmering in the sparse light speckling the ground. In the span of an instant when the girl steps down, a twig by her foot moves, and suddenly a great pain wraps around her ankle and flings her off her feet.

Stonewall lets out a distressed whinny at the sudden movement as Avian shrieks, her feet abruptly yanked from under her and she is nearly flipped upside down. Instant panic sets in, and the girl let out yell after frightened yell as she dangles there, her back just barely touching the ground while a thin metallic wire attached to a large, bent sapling pulls her ankle skyward.

Instinctively, the girl moves in a frenzy, hands flying up to her ankle and she kicks out in a blind attempt to get away. Of course such a movement doesn't work, and in the nature of the trap, the wire about her ankle only tightens the more she struggles.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Full panic; cold, inborn, and powerful, this is all she feels. She is aware of nothing around her, nothing save the pain and the desperate desire to run, until she's suddenly laying on the ground. There is just a sliver of conscious thought enough for her to look up and see Stonewall stamping down on the think sapling with his massive hooves and weight. Due to the sapling being young and green, it bends instead of breaking, but it gives enough leeway for her ankle to rest on the ground and allow her to sit up.

Now on the ground, Avian glues her eyes to the pain enveloping her limb. The trap wire is fixated in a slim loop about her ankle, then thin wire cutting into her flesh all around, and at the sight of the large amount of blood pouring from the deep laceration, Avian does what all children naturally do: she bawls.

It is a deep cry from the most inner part of her being, long and filled with fear, and the girl is paralyzed by it. She can't bring herself to move, instead focusing all her energy into bellowing out her desperation into the empty forest.

"MAAAAAAAAA! DAAAAAAAAAAAA!" she cries, tears caking her face in salty rivers. "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

Her pain and fright give her the strength to scream at the top of her lungs, over and over even past the point where her throat yearns to give out. She cries, and cries, and cries. Endless crying. After a while, her tears run out, yet even then she continues to cry in broken sobs until, after hours of wailing it seems, the last of her strength gives out and she falls into a pitiable whimper. Even more time passes this way, the child to frightened to do anything, but eventually even her whimpering stops and she is left with nothing.

Having given all she can, instinct changes. At first, she attempts to remove the wire from about her foot, but just the slightest touch makes her cry out, and she gives up on the endeavor immediately. Next, she moves onto trying to break the sapling, but it is too young and flexible to splinter, and Avian is too weak to cut it through. After that, she tackles on the roots, determined to dig up the offending plant and free herself that way, but after a half hour of digging, her sore fingers have found nothing but a knot of intertwined root which is impossible for her to dig around.

And so, with no options left, the girl sits back down on the deer path and resumes her whimpers. Throughout all of it, Stonewall never leaves her side. He lays behind her, letting the girl find comfort in his presence, but other than that, he can do nothing but wait with her. And wait they do.

It could have been minutes or hours, even days for all she cared, and yet no one has come for her. She knew she wasn't allowed to be here, but she paid no heed to the limitation, and now she is paying the price.

The blood has long since dried up, crusting her entire bare foot in maroon, and the girl is so emotionally exhausted that all she can to is lean back against Stone and ignore the wound upon her ankle, fatigue having dulled the searing pain having into nothing more than a throbbing ache.

Her lids grow heavy now, her eyes tired and sticky from all her tears, but just as she begins to close them, a rumbling in the earth wakes her, and she freezes. The rumbling comes again, and once more, and again, and again; a steady rhythm that she instantly recognizes, and a bolt of terror seizes her.

It is very rare for a giant to make its way this deep into the forest which protects her home, but it _has _happened, and the unmistakable shudder of their gigantic footsteps was seared into her mind at a very young age. So at the unquestionable sound, the girl stops moving, becoming nothing more than a statue.

As the steps draw closer, she dares not to breathe, but newly formed tears begin streaming down her face once again. She is afraid, very afraid, yet unable to do anything aside wait for the monster to find her.

With each step, her heart thuds faster, and when it sounds like the giant is just beyond the field of her vision, she lets out a gasp as the horse behind her suddenly stands and walks away.

"NO! COME BACK! DON'T LEAVE ME!" she sobs to him, reaching out to which the stallion looks over his shoulder.

For a moment, his dark eyes look conflicted, but at the shuttering sound of another step, he makes up his mind, gives the girl a soft whinny, and makes his way down the deer path. Avian cries after him, but he is already out of sight, and a new fear takes hold of her.

Closer and closer the steps become, but just when it seems the giant is a stride away from stomping her, the steps stop. At the silence, Avian's fear persists, and she holds her breath waiting for the monster to find her.

"Avian?"

The unexpected voice calls out just as a pair of bushes shutter a few meters from her, and to the girl's widening eyes, a swath of bright red hair followed by a man steps out, and the girl's crying once again begins anew.

"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

She doesn't even notice as Stonewall follows the man into the open, for her eyes are glued to her father, and his to her. Before she can blink, she is in his arms, and she wraps her own little arms around his neck so tightly it could choke him. She weeps then, letting go of all her fear, and Reid cradles her, relief flooding his body like a wave.

"We thought we lost you…"

All Avian does is cry, so lost in relief that she pays no mind as Reid removes the offending wire from her ankle and they begin the trek back home. She doesn't even have the ability to be fearful of the giant she heard before. Her father has found her, and is taking her home; that is all she cares about, and she hides her head in his shoulder.

Neither of them say anything for a long time as they walk, Stonewall only a step behind. But after a handful of quiet minutes, Reid speaks.

"Avian…" he begins softly, and at his voice, the ginger turns to him. "… why did you run?"

At the question, the girl's heart clenches, and she is rendered speechless.

"Avian?"

It takes all her will power to open her mouth, but even then shame and guilt clutter and mute her words, and she mumbles illegibly.

"Please speak louder, Avi, so your Da may hear you."

Avian swallows, then pipes up again.

"You and Ma where mad at me…"

"You ran 'cause we tongue-lashed you?"

Avian nods.

"You know why we did so." Reid speaks, voice still soft. "Do you remember why?"

Avian curls up into his shoulder in shame.

"I lie…"

Reid nods back to her.

"Aye. I've already said this to you, so I shant repeat myself, but I know that you know it is wrong. You are better than that, Avian."

The girl keeps her silence.

"Why do you lie to us?"

"Because…." She begins to answer, but a lump of emotion stops her voice.

"Yes?"

Unexpectedly, wetness flows down her cheeks yet again, and she shutters when she speaks.

"…I want to be special like Rom and Tol."

"Special? You are already special, Avian." Her father retorts, slightly bewildered by her response, to which Avian shakes her head slightly.

"No I'm not… I can't do anything they can. I'm useless."

"No child of mine is useless."

Reid's voice comes out stronger than intended, and at the tone the girl looks up into his eyes.

"Now I never want to hear you utter such a ridiculous thing ever again."

"But…"

"Nay. No buts. I will not stand for my daughter cuttin' herself down."

They hold eye contact for a long minute, still walking through dense green, but at the end Avian turns away despairingly. Her expression is so hurt and sullen that Reid's heart breaks for her, and words fail him.

However, a few paces of silence grants him an answer, and in his same soft voice, he speaks.

"You are special, Avian." He tells her wide blue eyes again. "You always have been."

A spark of mild interest colors his daughter's gaze, and Reid continues.

"Avian, do you remember what I call you?"

At first, nothing happens, but almost hesitantly, Avian nods.

"What was it?"

The child hesitates again, the forces out the answer in a delicate voice.

"Seamair…"

"Aye. And do you remember what it means?"

She shakes her head.

"Well," Reid begins, gazing down at her to make sure she is listening before going on. "tis a word from the language of our ancestors. The Celtics called it 'seamair', or 'little clover'. Do you know why I call you that?"

The girl shakes her head again.

"Tis 'cause we have the little clovers to thank for you."

At the ambiguous explanation, Avian lifts her head just a bit and concentrates on her father, just the reaction he was hoping for.

"You see," he explains as he steps over a fallen log, careful not to disturb his daughter's injury, "you were a bit of a surprise to us. Your Ma could not carry you for long, so you were born very early, and you were very, very small."

Lively attention begins to color the child's expression, and it takes all he has for Reid not to break out into a relieved smile. As he continues his explanation, Reid decides to stave her curiosity with partial truth, and gives her only the minimalist of information.

"Fit in my hand, you could. Not but a wee lass who could not even breathe by herself. No baby should have been born as early as you were, it was luck that saw you through even that far, but after you were born, we feared that you'd lack the strength to keep goin'."

At this point, Reid stares straight ahead, heavy accent deepening as he frowns upon the memory.

"You were tiny, so tiny that the nurses took you from us the first moment they could. They hooked you up to all sorts of gadgets and things, and they wouldn't let us hold you. They told us they'd try their best, but we mustn't hold to hope. You were so weak and helpless… Your Ma and I… we thought we would lose you."

Reid pauses, momentarily caught up in himself and Avian takes the opportunity to speak.

"Lose? You mean like how we lost Odhrán and Euraid?" she asks, remembering the sudden passing of both of Stonewall's parents a few years past.

"Aye. Just like that." Her father confirms. "We were very scared for you, yet there was nothin' we could do. They kept you inside a box to keep you safe, so all we were allowed to do was watch you and put our fingers to the glass."

"We were desperate and despairin', but against the words of your nurses, we still kept our hope. Instead of wallowin' in our misfortune, your Ma and I decided to do all we possibly could to give you the best chance for life. So, with hope in our hearts, we started to give you a garden."

Avian tilts her head, completely unaware of the moving forest about her or the horse pacing behind her.

"You see, back where our ancestors hail, there grows a plant believed to be lucky. You know it as shamrocks, but to them it was called 'seamair'. According to legend, very rarely these plants yield a special clover with four leaves believed to give luck to whomever finds them. Well, near our home such a patch of 'seamair' grew, and every day on our way to see you, we would scour that patch until we found a four leafed clover. Once we did, we would keep it, pray that it would heal you, then once we reached your box, we would lay the clover upon the cover in hopes that some of its magical luck would rub off on you."

"We did this every visit, day after day, week after week, and every time we made sure to find a lucky one to give you. After a while, the clovers would build up, but as they withered and died, we feared to take them away lest somethin' happen, so we begged your caretakers to leave them be. So they built and built upon themselves, and for the longest time, we thought our efforts were useless…"

Reid stops again, caught up in memory for a moment before snapping back to reality. He turns a reassuring smile to his daughter, and gently nudges her.

"But as you can see, all our prayin' and pickin' paid off. By luck of fate and those hoards of clovers, you made it. Now…"

At this, the man stares deep into his daughter's eyes, and his voice grows a serious undertone to it.

"…never shall I hear another word from you about you not bein' special. You were born special…" he states, eyes growing a bit misty.

For a moment he stares at her, and though the girl doesn't know it herself yet, Reid is all too aware of the great power dwelling in her, a secret he must protect at all costs. The girl has no way of knowing that it is that _very_ power that nearly killed her all those years ago, a blessing as well as a curse, and Reid's mouth turns tight.

"You are more special than you realize, my Seamair." He tells her softly, prompting a look of confusion from the girl before he leans forward and plants a kiss upon her forehead.

But as he pulls back, a mild sadness and guilt still clouds her gaze.

"Avian…"

Reid draws hand upon her round face, thumb rubbing her freckled cheek.

"…. Do not compare yourself to your brothers. There shall be things in which they will be more talented in, but know that talent is a two-way road. For whatever endeavor they may surpass you in, you in turn shall surpass them in another. Remember what I have always told you, my bird. You are still earning your feathers, still learning to fly. Your time will eventually come, and when it does, know that your wings shant fail you."

"But how will I know!?" Avian states suddenly, her guilt growing. "I try to learn but it feels as if my feet are glued to earth. I try, but I don't feel any closer, and I don't know when I'll get there. Tell me how you know!"

Reid considers her for a long moment, then gives an apologetic smile.

"That is the key, there Avian. No one knows."

"But that makes no sense!"

"Of course it doesn't."

Avian blinks up at her father, confused and ridden by emotion, yet she soaks in his words.

"How are we ever to know? How does a bird know when it is time to take flight for a land he has never been? Every year new chicks are born at our lake, and every year they take wing to journey to a distant place we've yet to see. How do they know when and where to go? How do they understand when it is time to take up a breeze and fly for the first time? Tis a mystery of life, but it isn't as complicated as it seems…"

Once more Reid brushes his daughter's cheek.

"… Do not fret, for everythin' you need is already inside you, and worry not. When your time comes, you will open your eyes to the dawn and, deep within your spirit, you will know what you have to do. All you need to do 'til then is be patient and wait."

The ginger wanders her eyes over her father's features, and deep in herself she understands his words to be true. His wisdom is that beyond her comprehension, and his accented voice, the one she loves so much, has never led her astray. Looking up at him, she wonders at this face she trusts, her own looks modeled so close after his. His dark ginger hair and beard, his smiling gray-blue eyes, even his own swath of freckles… all traits she inherited from him.

She stares at him with bubbling warmth blooming in her chest, and after a long silence, she lays her head upon his shoulder and drapes her thin arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry Athair…"

Reid does nothing in response to her apology except brush her hair out of her face.

"You need not thank me. Tis my job and honor to teach you, Seamair."

Up against his body, Avian finds comfort and contents herself with resting there as they finally break though the tree line to where her family waits. They fuss about her with revived laughs and hugs and pull her inside. They tend to her injury and do not mention the incident of which drove her to run, but even after hours of time spent at home, the girl still sits subdued upon her father's lap. Claws of negative emotion refuse to release her from their grip, even as all her family makes circle in the living room floor for their nightly gathering.

She gazes impassively as Rom takes his seat and gives his attention to tuning the guitar in his hands. Usually, she would be filled with excitement, having always loved this time her family always spends together singing song and conversing, but after the events of today, all the strength has fled from her body.

Through fatherly instinct, Reid can almost feel the weight of sadness upon the child in his lap, and his heart hurts. He knows that she is still bothered by her own actions today.

'_Always was one to take punishment to heart.'_

While they all wait and make small talk with one another, Reid clears his throat.

"Romulus," he calls, and his eldest son automatically looks up. "what say you to giving your sister a chance?"

At the question, Avian's attention perks and she looks up at her father with wide eyes.

"She is in her sixth year, and has yet to touch an instrument."

The brown haired teen doesn't answer verbally, but instead casts his eyes downward to the child in his father's lap. Without word, Rom shifts and suddenly, Avian is sitting in his lap, his legs crossed beneath her own.

The girl can barely contain herself as he sets the guitar upon her thin legs and takes her small hands into his own. Her fingers mould to his around the neck and above the strings, and with skilled motion, he moves his hands and the girl's fingers begin plucking notes. Up and down the notes go, and her heart fills up with the sound of music.

She's playing!

Her eyes follow her brother's hand wrapped around her own, and out from her mother's mouth comes a soft melody of words.

_We're walking in the air_

_We're floating in the moonlit sky_

_The people far below are sleeping as we fly_

_We're holding very tight_

_I'm riding in the midnight blue_

_I'm finding I can fly so high above with you_

Her voice is soft, like a summer breeze, and after her turn, her father picks up the song in his baritone voice, accent ringing naturally along the words. It could not be more beautiful to the child's ears, even after Tolkien botches his turn so badly that Generva clamps her hand over his laughing mouth.

The girl does not have a concept of heaven, or even an idea of what paradise is. All the knows is that, this moment of peace, of family, of love… it's perfect. She gazes at all of them, memorizing each of them, then she looks up to find Rom's eyes soft as he watches his fingers dance upon the strings. For a moment, he takes no notice of her, but when his green eyes finally reach hers, he gives her just the faintest shadow of a smile.

Yes, this is it. Paradise. Even after the trouble she put them all through today, they still love her. Of course, how could she doubt?

The pain in her ankle is far away in light of the joy enveloping her chest, and in her mind, Avian wishes that they could stay like this forever. Her world is small, encompassing only the living beings within her sight, but even with such a tiny existence, the girl is happy.

Blissful and content, Avian smiles and closes her eyes.

'_I never want this to change.' _She prays. _'I want all of us to be like this forever.'_

***Author's Note***

WHY WAS THIS SO LONG!? *glares at Tolkien hogging all the spotlight* Seriously, it wasn't supposed to be this drawn out, which is why the first story is so short, but WHATEVER. Did this more for my satisfaction than anyone else's but hopefully this will shed some light on Avian's family. Anyway, short note here cause there ain't much else to say except thank you for reading! And a special thanks to close enough story for leaving a review! It makes meh happeh ;u; Til next time!

-Ambi


	3. Chapter 3

***Author's note***

Before we get started, I just wanted to apologize in advance for the overall shitty quality of this chapter as well as the fact that the style which I use to describe Avian's point of view isn't fully realized. This is probably the most difficult thing I've ever had to write, mostly due to the fact that I didn't wish to write out what happens between Avian and James as it's hurtful, as well as not wishing to write about her interaction with him at all because… he isn't Levi… and I hate him. As a result, most of this was crapped out in terrible spurts and about halfway through I just wanted to get this done, so I didn't put in as much effort as I usually do. I also apologize for any obscene errors in grammar/spelling/ect. I'll come back and proofread sometime, but as of right now I just want to get it posted. Again, I apologize and I hope you can forgive me *bows*

**If you haven't read Learning to Fly up to Chapter 23 then DO NOT CONITINUE.**

The story thus far: After months of obvious flirting on his part, and fluttering heartbeats on hers, Avian has accepted James' offer of a relationship and are now dating. It seems that the two are 'perfect' together, and in her naïve way, Avian believes that things are as they should be. However, relationships in life are not as wonderful as they are depicted to be in literature, and unfortunately for her, Avian is about to learn that attraction does not always equal love.

This one-shot is told in first person from Avian's POV

**Understanding Love**

This has to be it, it just has to be.

It happened precisely as I had always read in literature: On a stunning summer day, hours of time just between us, boisterous laughter, tender smiling, a surprise gift, and a simple question asked in the beautiful orange color of sunset. It was as perfect as I had imagined it would be.

What is there for me to say of this man of whom I've come to know? It's as if the warriors and princes from the novels and tomes of my childhood have been realized here in the real world, all brought together to form one man who, beyond my understanding, had his eyes on me.

It happened so swiftly, this growth of bond and affection, yet it all feels as it should be. We started off as strangers, and the only reason we came to know each other at all was by pure coincidence. Yet there is no such thing as coincidence in this world, only fate. How else could this have happened?

Back then, at Wall Rose the night Eren strove to repair the breach, I had saved his life. I knew not of him, or he of me, but the saving of someone's life forges an invisible string from one person to another, and it is that very tie that has brought us here.

I recall being so afraid at first. I still feared people, and outside of the small squad of Eren, Petra and the others, there was no one of which I wished to become close to. There was so much I didn't know, that I didn't understand, yet somehow he had managed to squirm into my life without me even knowing it.

And how a blessing it was.

My heart flutters at the thought of such an occasion, of how it all began. A simple exchange of words was all the strings of fate needed. With them, it spun a wondrous web of intertwining emotion and desire the likes of which I've never known. How different these feelings I harbor are for this man than I do for most anyone else. It is not the affection I had for my father, nor is it that of the one I had for my brothers. Furthermore, it is varied from the bond I feel with my newfound friends. Eren, Gunther, Eld, even Oluo… though they are kind to me and I care for them with every inch of my being, the affection I hold for them does not compare to what I have for him. No one shares this unique bond I have forged, well… no one except one…

My features must betray me, for a strong arm wraps itself around my body and I am drawn into warmth.

"Quit thinking about it." James tells me softly, drawing me closer to him.

I cannot help but prolong my distress just a second more.

"I do not believe I'm capable of putting it out of my mind." I reply, chest heavy. "I knew it was coming, yet I was unprepared for the animosity that was shown to me."

Oh how unprepared I was.

I am not ignorant. I am not as blind as _he_ would have me believe. I knew for a long while of the hatred he had for James, that much was blatant. But of me… I had no idea.

Though I try to dismiss such obstructive thoughts, my mind is flooded with memories of what just transpired not but a moment ago, and I draw my hands across my arms, the fabric of my dress feeling as sandpaper against my skin. I wish to cry again, but I've no more tears to shed.

Just how could he treat me this way? So cruel, unwaveringly dictating, malicious is he yet I understand not the cause of such a flip in demeanor. I've known him to be a difficult man to please, but this… this is beyond anything I've come to expect of him, and I feel as if my insides are trying to split under the pressure of trying to comprehend his motives. And what he said to me… his final words that drove agony through my heart…

'_I've better things to do than listen to the misfortunes of a whiny, disobedient child.'_

Did he really mean that? Surely not, but in the next moment my mind's eye sees a pair of cold orbs slicing through me as if his gaze were of steel and I were made of paper. I was wrong about him. I truly believed in the jealousy I thought I spied in his actions and mannerisms, but now I realize my assumption was not as concise as originally perceived. He was not jealous, far from it in fact. With mind clear to properly assess his behavior, I conclude that his escalated aggression and callous language are evidence of nothing more than mounting frustration concerning my blatant disregard for his advice concerning the matter of James and I.

I was a fool to believe there could ever be such a thing as jealousy in his gaze. To feel jealousy, one needs to have close affection or attachment toward another living thing, yet it is only now that I understand that the rumors of his consistently aloof nature are true. He came to have a better understanding of me, yes, but there is no possible way for our relationship to evolve from anything more than superior and subordinate. Corporal, it seems, is neither capable nor willing to involve himself in personal relationships.

For reasons outside of my understanding, that fact alone cuts deeper than any curse from his mouth.

An almost unperceivable shiver wracks my form.

"Hey, stop it. STOP IT."

From where my eyes had been glued to the distant ground below, the land seemingly not far enough away from where I sit atop the roof of the sleeping quarters building, James' hands draws my face, forcing me to see nothing but him.

"Don't waste your time hurting over him. Corporal is an asshole who cares about no one but himself."

His voice is mellow, but I can hear the underlying anger he is trying to hide.

"It's all happened before. Though it's not strictly forbidden, it's pretty obvious that none of the commanding officers approve of relationships, so he's probably just pissed that I don't give a shit what he has to say. Just forget about him. He'll find some other hapless trainee to abuse eventually."

It is truth, yet the reality of his statement does not hurt me any less.

"I believe you to be right …."

James nods.

"Good. You've got me now, and I'll make damn sure he never bothers you again."

And for all his courageous, strong words, James upholds them with great fervor and with his constant vigilance, he almost single handedly makes me forget my anguish.

There isn't an aspect of him that I am not fond of. James is, effectively, everything that I've come to dream about and desire for a companion, thanks to the tutelage of my readings. Throughout every adventure painted into my childish mind when I was younger, the descriptions of heroes and princes always fascinated me. Who where these mysterious, charming men? How do they accomplish and succeed in every harrowing adventure and daring trial?

While this world is very unlike the ones of which I've read, the parameters of these fantastical lands still stands, and it is by them that I derive my morals, hopes, imagination, and most everything that comprises my desires and mindset.

It's awe inspiring just how I happened to find someone who meets such standards, especially when I was not looking for anyone at all. The theme of courtship and love, while interesting, never came to the forefront of my mind until recently. Such a thing always seemed to be somewhere outside my grasp, not because I believe myself unable to be loved, but because, for the majority of my life, there was no occasion for such an event to occur. The only men I knew until recently where those of my own family. In such isolation, I never considered the existence of other men outside of my small world, and even farther, how some such men would find me desirable.

A strange notion it is, one I'll likely never fully wrap my mind around, but I do not worry upon it. James is… everything I never knew I wanted. He is outspoken, open, jesting, strong… He is unafraid, steady, charming and kind.

Early on, after the successful repair of Wall Rose, he was one of the only soldiers to ever speak to me outside of my small circle of acquaintanceship, and one of the only ones who seemed unbothered by my foreign biology. Perhaps it is solely due to my saving his life that night, but whatever the reason may be, my unknown power to shift into the form of a giant never put him off unlike most of the others. Where the majority of strangers feared and suspected, he was willing to try and understand. It was difficult, and at the beginning I could easily discern that he was wary of me, as he should, but through it all he persisted and overtime came to accept it without nary a side glance.

From then on, fate wove it's web in its unseen, mysterious way and hopelessly intertwined James' life with mine. It was unexpected, a dashing of whimsical direction concerning our futures of which I could not be more delighted in.

XXX

**June**

"In the end Dad had to take me to the local clinic for stitches. Hurt like hell too." James finishes nonchalantly, eyes cast down as he works at polishing the leather saddle in his lap.

"That's awful!"

I cannot help but gape slightly at his story, to which he merely laughs.

"What?"

"I don't understand how you can think back upon such an event so calmly. You could have been seriously injured! You were lucky the metal fell upon your brow and not your eye. Does that fact not bother you?"

James lets out another chuckle at my chastising and shrugs.

"Not really. It's just a part of that line of work. Metal working is a dangerous job." He answers easily, glancing up at me from the corner of his eye. "My Dad made sure we took every precaution when we worked, but accidents happen. He had an overheated metal casting bend and fall on his foot once. Burned his boots and the top of his foot right up."

"Not to sound unsympathetic but I believe a scorched boot and foot, though terrible, are not comparable to a tempered blade shattering upon impact with a mallet and nearly gouging out an eye." I frown back, and though I am most serious in my assertion, the man before me lets out a friendly laugh.

"Ahh… See, putting it like that makes it sound WAY more serious than it actually was." He states through a grin. "It wasn't the first time I've ever gotten hurt forging, and besides…"

At this he swings his brown bangs off his forehead and lifts up his brow revealing a straight, slightly discolored scar running from his brow to his temple.

"…I got a knarly scar from it, and only TRUE smiths wear the toil and slavery of their trade upon their body. Piece of advice, NEVER trust a soft skinned blacksmith. If they don't have scars or calluses, they aren't worth shit."

Before I can answer James frowns, leans forward and elongates his face as if trying to look like an older man, and in a deep, gravelly voice adds, "Them pansies got hands like babies; can't even strike an ore more than twenty times a minute with their spindly little twig arms. I says, if you are a REAL man, take up a hammer and sweat!"

Without breaking character, James then flexes his arms in air, emphasizing well defined valleys and hills of muscle.

"See these?" he continues in his gravelly man voice, "These ain't no lazy arms of some washed out tailor. Hell no, these are the products of over thirty years of making the finest blades and swords in all of Trost! True men sweat and bleed for their craft, anything less is just manly disgrace!"

At this point, his face is so distorted and his voice so ridiculous that I burst out laughing, completely disregarding the bridle and bit I'm supposed to be cleaning in a fit of hilarity.

"I'm being dead serious!" James exclaims through a smile, returning to his normal voice. "That's what I was told growing up! And that was my Dad by the way in case you were wondering."

"I assumed!" I manage to answer through a giggling fit, struggling to control myself.

It takes a moment, but I eventually muster the discipline to calm myself back down, and I throw a light glance over James' way.

"I do say, though having never met the man, your impression is quite hysterical."

In reply, James inclines his head in a jesting, pompous bow.

"Why thank you. I always liked to think of myself as a pretty good impersonator, though…" he elaborates, voice mellowing out as he shines a gentle smile my way, " …it really helps to have such a lovely audience."

It's so instinctual, something of which I can neither fight nor control, the way my body seems to react of its own accord. I do not tell it too, but with the way James' eyes soften coupled with the soft swish of his chestnut hair and soothingly upturned lips grinning at me with such familiarity, my heart begins to beat the rapid rhythm of some unknown melody within the confines of my chest and heat rises to my cheeks.

This response is still new to me though I've felt it several times before, so I have no name for such a reaction, but whatever it may be I find myself loving it despite the way it makes me uncomfortable in its foreignness. It's a mixture of happiness and anticipation and embarrassment, each swirling together in some sort of biological solution that fuels the nervously excited touch receptors all over my body making me hyper sensitive to every movement he makes, every word he speaks, every soft brushing of his skin upon mine. It's potent, this energy, so much so that I have no choice but to turn away from his beaming features and focus my attention on the leather in my hands.

"I believe this to be done." I spout without reason, my voice sounding oddly jittery, and turn away from him.

To give myself any reason to avoid looking back at him lest my chest burst into two, I fumble with the leather straps in my hands and strain on my tiptoes to reach for a nail imbedded into the low wooden rafter above me. I know it's futile, I'm much too short to reach it, yet I ignore the obvious fruitlessness of my endeavor and strain anyway, reaching up as far as my small arms can reach in effort to hang the bridle upon its peg.

Behind me, I hear James let out a soft chuckle at my failure, and my chest skips a beat when I hear him stand.

"Nice try, but I don't think stretching will do you any good."

Without waiting for my reply, James comes up behind me, gently takes the bridle from my hands, and hangs it in its proper place.

"You could have just asked you know." He playfully jibes, and I can do nothing more than stutter a reply.

"I w… wished not to bother you." I say, and even I can hear the fluster in my voice.

"Now what makes you think that would bother me? You worry too much."

When I turn to gaze at him, he still wears that same kind face from before.

"Don't be afraid to ask me to help you, that's what I'm here for." He continues with a small smile. "That's part of what makes us such a great pair; whatever you can't do, I can."

"I could have reached it if I scaled the fence." I defend myself, but my justification falls half heartedly about my feet when James' smile broadens.

"Really? You're too short to reach it even with that." He laughs, and my cheeks burn brighter. "I like how you always try to do things normal sized people do despite your, shall we say, obvious _short _comings."

I frown at him.

"Is there an issue with me attempting to be self reliant?"

James shakes his head.

"Of course not! I find it quite adorable actually."

Heart begins thrumming again, and my eyes are glued to his when he steps a tad closer.

"It's just one of the things I find interesting about you." He continues, and I find myself drawn in my his voice as well as his steady gaze. "Even though I'm nearly twice your size, and you could easily just rely on me to do things for you, you still continue to do things on your own without asking for help. I wish you would sometimes, but it's nice seeing how determined you are."

He takes another casual step closer, and I'm faintly aware of the unmoving wooden wall of the stall behind me.

"Most of the time girls will take any chance they can get to have guys do things for them, but not you. You're surprisingly independent, and that stands out to me a lot more than your height does." He smiles. "It still amazes me how you went all those months pretty much taking care of yourself when your shoulder and leg were jacked up from that mission in Shiganshina. It wasn't good for you to, but I admire your willpower in not going to the infirmary like you were supposed to. Where other girls would lie down and cry and complain about how hurt they are, you pushed through it all by yourself without giving in."

I can feel his body against mine now, softly pinning me to the stall wall, and even though he is so close and he is so much larger and stronger than I, and my chest constricts with warmth and nervous energy, I am not afraid. All of my senses are focused upon the man staring down at me; my eyes taking in his handsome face, my ears soaking up his warming voice, my body radiating where his hands rest upon my bare arms, and my nose filling with his familiar scent. This is all so new, so strange, yet even though I've never experienced such a thing before, all of it is happening just as I thought it would.

How many times have I read of similar events transpiring between hero and heroin in my novels back home? This is all part of courting, of bonding, of growing closer, so even when my chest feels as if it will explode any minute as James' face draws near mine, I do not fear.

"You're strong, determined, independent… you're even brave enough to stand up to Corporal." He mutters, "Despite what you appear to be, you're one of the strongest people I know. You were even strong enough to cut through to me…"

Whatever other words he might have said dies upon his lips, and with breath baited and eyes locked, James kisses me.

It's… nice. In all honesty, it isn't the 'spark of fire' or 'bold of lightning' that I was expecting, but the sensation is just as sweet. As odd as such a gesture is, I instantly enjoy the feeling of his lips upon mine, and as is natural of me, my body acts of its own accord and I close my eyes.

I've no recollection of how much time passes in this moment, but when we finally break apart both of us are flustered and slightly out of breath, eyes wide in muted awe. After a silent moment, James lets out a single, self conscious laugh to which I join out of similar reticence.

"Hi…" He breaths through slight smile.

"Hi…" I smile back.

It takes a few moments of flustered scraping of feet and dashing glances before the nervousness fades and we return to something similar to normalcy, but I can feel that a slight something has changed. Inside I'm a plethora of giddiness and girlish excitement, and I struggle to keep it under control.

A kiss. My first kiss!

I'm uncertain if it is customary for females to be so excited over something so trivial, but I couldn't care less how peculiar it might be. James kissed me, a display of his affection for me, and I am more elated than I thought I could ever be at such a notion.

However, through all my ecstatic joy and muted glee, an itch tugs at me. Automatically, my gaze turns upwards toward a very familiar window in the Recon office building not but a short walk from the stables. It's empty, but I could have sworn I had spied the shadow of a raven haired man watching us from that pane. Of course. I could be wrong. What reason would he have to waste time in surveying us? I'm certain there are matters more pressing than the interaction of two lowly cadets to concern him, but then again Corporal is a complicated man, and through all of my doubt concerning his lack of interest in my relations, I know my instincts to be more or less correct, and I feel certain that at some point he had been watching us from that very glass.

I'm unsure as to how I feel about this information.

XXX

**Late July**

For the first time in a long while, I'm actually in high spirits following the return from our most recent mission. It had been strenuous and difficult as expected, and though casualties still occur, but with far less frequency than before since the commencement of our new campaign with eradicating the giants from domestic districts and homesteads, there is a slight lightness in my step as I make my way upstairs to James' dorm.

'_This is so rare.' _I muse to myself, _'Not oft am I one for such festivity so soon after a mission.'_

But even with the slight tugging in my body and heart willing to pull me down with exhaustion and melancholy, I refuse to allow myself to step down. Instead of reflecting upon the events of today as I habitually do, I raise my head and walk steadily onward, determined to keep such sober thoughts from my mind.

I make an effort to distract myself with the prospect of spending much longed for personal time with James. Normally, it is he who instigates our travels into the city, but for today I find myself oddly excited. The hustle and chaotic nature of inner Stohess always causes a good deal of anxiety for me, what with so much activity and people, but ever since Petra alerted me to a quaint café renowned for its delicacies and romantic atmosphere my head has been filled with nothing but yearning to visit the small shop.

'_Long has it been since James and I last shared time together. This outing will be greatly beneficial for both of us.'_

Coming level to the floor of the sleeping quarters where James' room resides, excitement bubbles within me. I can already visualize it; a small yet welcoming building filled with soft candle glow and the scent of various sweets in the air. Other couples whisper loving nothings into each other's ears, and while we eat, James does the same for me. There will be much laughter, soft mutterings, gentle gazes and holding of hands. At some point in time, he will take me to a clearing in the floor and we will dance to melodious song most of the evening, unaware of the eyes locked upon us. We will be happy, and at the end of the night when all is said and done I will become lost in his eyes and we will kiss until my breath is stolen from me.

I know not where such fantasies originate, nor do I understand how I can even feel this way considering I'm much more at home secluded in an abandoned forest than I am with civilization, much less spending such personal time with a single man, but my misgivings are but words on the wind. I hear them, but within the moment of a heartbeat they are blown away and all my confusion with them.

'_Do not question, just feel.'_ I tell myself. _'You have never doubted the probing of your inner nature, why begin now? All is well.'_

It's so easy to tell myself that when I am on my own, but when I open the door to James' room the atmosphere within nearly suffocates me.

"I guess no one bothers knocking anymore."

It's brightly lit from bright planes of sunlight that stream through his window, yet everything looks dark. James sits upon his bed, still in the process of removing his uniform straps and doesn't spare me much of acknowledgement aside from a bland side glance.

'_All is well.' _I repeat, doing my best to ignore his manner and quietly step inside.

"I apologize. I did not think of it before I came in." I tell his downturned head, and he answers with a simple grunt.

"I can tell." He replies curtly, dislodging a boot so as to remove the leather bindings about his legs. "But what is it? You never come to me like this."

Despite his flat tone of voice, a small excited smile creeps upon me.

"Well," I begin, "Petra told me about a quaint café in inner Stohess that she said was very nice, and seeing as how we returned from our expedition early, I wished to inquire if we could go to it tonight?"

James never lifts his head.

"You can." He responds. "I don't feel like going anywhere."

My spirits sink slightly.

"I'm sure you are a fatigued as I am, but this is such a rare occurrence that I wish to take full advantage of it."

"Eh… It's not that great. We're only an hour or two early you know." James deadpans, now working on his other boot.

"Perhaps, but I still…"

"Don't you have a girl friend or whatever to go with you?" He interrupts, and when I don't immediately answer he looks up. "Thanks for asking and all, but I was already planning on doing something with the guys."

'_Of course. All his free time is spent with those two moronic buffoons.'_ I scowl.

Since I first met them about a month prior, steady James has lessened his time spent with me in favor of wasting it in the company of two degenerate Military Police officers. Upon first meeting them, I already disliked their company. Deglan and Fabar are possibly, if not the most, ill mannered people I've ever had the displeasure to encounter. With their constant profanity surpassing the filthy mouths of Corporal, Oluo, and even Zaji and Niche, as well as their barbaric sense of physical humor, the two are likened to mentally disabled bulls in my mind. Both are strong and imposing in stature, layered with heavy muscle and sharp faces, yet it seems their heads are completely empty considering that their favorite time killer is to repeatedly inflict injury unto each other's groins until one ends up passing out from pain.

And for whatever reason, James has taken a great liking to them, and over time I've noticed myself fading into the background, left to watch in mute dismay as his entire demeanor slowly shifts. He never used to be so curt with me, nor had he ever dismissed my presence like this until they came along. His mouth, though not the cleanest to begin with, has only worsened, and another side of him, a more brutish, crude side, has made itself known.

I hate it.

But I do not let such things drag me down. James cares for me, I know he does. It's just… the newness has worn off. That's right… that's the reason behind his change in character. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all.

Forcing a smile back onto my face, I casually step up to him and mentally will him to reconsider.

"I know you enjoy their company," I persuade carefully, and his eyes are but planks of wood for all the interest I see in them. "But it has been long since we last had an evening together. Perhaps you can postpone your plans with them for just a night?"

James shrugs and slips off his other boot.

"Why? You can just as easily postpone _your _plans. Or just go by yourself if you want. You like being by yourself more anyway."

"Well…" I'm at a loss for words. "… I was kind of reserving such an occasion for just us… Special outings are what couples are supposed to do, correct?"

"Yeah, but what's the point doing that kind of stuff now?" He questions back, eyeing me. "I mean, sure couples do that, but after the first month or whatever, what's the point in putting in the extra effort? I already have you don't I?"

His voice isn't condescending, nor is it spiteful, but somehow the casual disregard for my request hurts me more than either of those combined. I knew things were changing, growing thin, but never has he waved me off in such a manner.

'_I thought he…'_

Before I complete the thought I stop myself.

"_No. I will not think that. Of course he loves me. Why else would he be with me? How can I expect things between us to progress without incident? Of course there will be friction and disagreements, just as this, so why do I feel so hurt? It's all part of building the relationship. I may not know how this 'dating' arrangement works, but James does. He's lived her his whole life, so he must know how this works, and I trust him. Things will get better, they have too. Love takes time to grow. All I need is more time.'_

I'm uncertain whether or not I believe my own words, but in spite of my doubt I keep my features calm.

"You do have me." I answer him, not sounding quite as understanding as I'd like. "And do not fret over missing them. We'll just plan our outing for another night."

"Good. We were going to go for drinks tonight, and I'm not going to miss Fabar making a total dumbass of himself. The man is completely insane shitfaced."

I say nothing in response as he removes the last of his straps and stands.

"If you do go out anyway, don't stay out too long." He includes, unbuttoning his shirt. "We leave early tomorrow. And could you leave so I can finish changing? It's nearly five and I don't want to be late."

I obey without comment, a dark pool of murk clogging up my chest and throat preventing me from speaking. I admit, I'm hurt, but once again I chide myself.

'_All is well. It's only been a month. Love will come eventually, just give it time. All I need is more time.'_

XXX

**Early November**

I'm so exhausted, but I've grown accustomed to the fatigue that plagues my limbs like unseen weight. It drags at me, straining my muscles, clouding my mind, darkening the area under my eyes, yet I find myself unwilling to relinquish myself imposed burden. Of course I know that the medics and nurses all greatly appreciate the assistance I offer, and none of them would look down upon me for taking time to rest, but even though I yearn to do just that, something keeps me from doing so.

If I try to delusion myself, I would say that my refusal to respite is due in large part to the nagging knowledge that every hand counts, especially with the number of injured rising, and that guilt would permeate my body if I chose to take time off instead of devoting all of my time and energy into saving lives. Such strenuous hours are not expected of me, I am but a volunteer so no one expects me to work the long shifts I do, but even though I do not carry the title of a trained medic, my medicinal knowledge is just as sharp, and I have a duty to use that knowledge to its fullest extent.

Ever since SOAR was created, my instinctive will to help people has only grown. Along with saving lives while upon the battlefield, I've come to devote just as much time tending to the fallen upon our return after every mission, doing all I can to save as many soldiers as possible. It is grueling, dreams filled with nothing but visions of blood and screams every dark night, but no matter how graphic the wound, no matter how bleak the outlook, no matter how painful it is to witness others in such vivid pain, I give my all in trying to relieve their suffering.

It's what I live for now, the saving of lives, so of course I would naturally devote most of my time toward such a goal. But even though that is the largest reason for my persistence, it isn't the only motive for my disregard for my own rest.

The other is James.

It's wrong of me, I know it is, yet though I know my reasoning's and actions to be despicable, I do not feel remorse over them. Over the course of these passing months we've both grown more and more distant, and for rationale unknown to me, I am not bothered by it as much as I believe I should. It's been such a steady, slow decline in affection that I do not hurt over it.

It's a dichotomy really. Ever sense he began interacting with Deglan and Fabar, his entire demeanor towards me has changed in a way that I'm not exactly comfortable with at all. The lightheartedness is gone, as well as the warmth and familiarity. He does not whisper into my ear as he used to, nor does he reach to hold my hand or brush a gentle finger across my cheek. He does not go out of his way to do things for me, and where he once always greeted me with a smile and a kiss as if me being gone was the worst thing to ever happen to him, he barely manages to mutter a simple 'hello' before going about his business.

The closeness is gone, either that or it has changed, for there was a switch in him concerning me, and with each day it only grows worse. I believe the switch is worse of all to me, for in no way am I prepared or even resolutely sure that such a thing is even good.

This switch as well started near the time when he met the two men back in July. They must have filled his mind with treacherous thoughts, for his character has become quite devious, especially as of late, and I abhor what they've done to him. I can only surmise that my alter in affection towards James began in late July, for that was when the touching started.

It was fine… at first. In fact, for the beginning of it I actually enjoyed it. I was naïve as to what it would eventually entail, but out of the blue it seemed James started to become more physically affectionate. I had grown used to his simple kisses and holding of hands, but he then began to explore and expand his contact upon my body. I remember feeling excited and joyful over the way his large hands began to roam about me, rubbing up and down my arms, and how he would draw circles upon my back and trail his fingertips over my legs and lips. Each touch felt warm and strange in a pleasant way, and without inhibition I allowed myself to enjoy it.

His touch was gentle and loving back then, and he was never quite forceful. Everything he did was out of love, and in response I soaked up everything he gave me. How many hours have I spent in his arms as his palms traveled over me, memorizing every part of me? With a little reassurance from him, he even came to convince me to let him run his fingers over my shirt and feel my torso with light, careful strokes. It was never overly sensual, and though I never much cared for him touching the more shapely aspects of my anatomy, I tolerated it for his sake.

Who am I to tell him no? I know nothing of the courtship between people, or of how relationships progress, or even what's acceptable in such a relationship. All I knew was that the sensation was both pleasurable as well as uncomfortable, but with each instance where he would come to me to further his memorization, I pushed my qualms aside.

I am but a stranger to these things. I've known no company aside from that of my family for over two decades, so misgivings concerning others are only natural, yet I am tired of feeling them. I've been here for over a year now, yet I still suffer apprehension towards socialization of which I am unfamiliar with. I hate it, and James new interest in my body was no exception. So instead of heeding my instinct like I've always done, I ignored it and set my teeth into grim determination. I resolved to end my childish worries, and to do so on my own. I knew Petra would never turn me away if I need her, but I had already bothered her so much with my ignorance, and to do so again felt obtrusive of me. She really is the best friend I could ever imagine having, and I thank fate day after day for allowing her to be in my life, but there must come a point to where I should not rely on her to assist me with every new step I take. James' relationship with me is mine and mine alone, and any misgivings that come with it are mine as well.

So with steely determination to figure it out on my own, I shut my mouth and let James do as he pleased.

Perhaps it was the wrong choice, for within that determination to allow him access to me I discovered that I'm not as in control of myself as I originally believed. I thought I had a firm grip upon my instinct, the natural prodding within my being, but I was direly mistaken.

I tolerated his hands upon me, even liking it at times, but it was there that I swiftly discovered an unspoken perimeter within myself; my skin was off limits.

I couldn't help it, I still _can't _help it; my body moves of its own accord while I'm left wondering over my own actions and the reasons behind him. It only happens whenever James becomes brave enough to venture underneath my clothing, and it is in those tense moments that his touching stops being pleasing altogether. For reasons I do not understand, I abhor it.

Whenever I begin to feel his fingertips begin to play at the hem of my blouse, my chest tightens painfully and a bolt of tense apprehension renders me paralyzed, only to grow worse as he glides them up me. Every time he will murmur to me, but I do not hear him, too overwhelmed with tension to focus upon his words. His hands will rise, crossing the contour of my stomach, the slight indent of my ribs, all the way up to the edge of my chest wrappings. The moment his fingers brush the fabric, instinct takes me and my hands fly up to stop him. Over and over the process will repeat, day after day, and each instance our interaction always ends the same; with me reflexively stopping him, unable to properly handle his advances.

And because of my constant interruptions, James begins to grow angry. He understood my wariness at first, but such consideration swiftly left him, replaced by constant frustration. I foolishly expected it to pass, but it never did. It only grew. Now, every time my hands fly to stop him and I mutter an apology, he ignores me as if I am nothing more than a pest and relinquishes himself to wallow in his aggravation. So often and potent are his negative emotions that with each passing week, I work in the infirmary longer and longer just to avoid returning to him.

It's not right of me to do so, but with his total reversal of character I just can't bring myself to enjoy his company anymore.

I'm guarded with him now.

'_He is but a mere man. What is there to fear?'_

There is much for me to fear in this unknown realm of uncertainty, but I tighten my resolve and push all thoughts to the back of my mind.

'_Thinking only worsens it. Let it go.' _I chide myself silently, yet a sigh escapes me as I remove my filthy uniform jacket from my shoulders.

My whole body aches. The mission from today was unexpectedly intense, and though there were no casualties, by some stroke of miracle, the fighting extended well after our estimated return time, so instead of only a couple of hours to bear down upon me, there are ten, and I feel every minute of that time strain through me.

My gear is removed next, followed by my leather torso straps, yet in the middle of unfastening the buckle to them, the creaking of a door sounds behind me and I freeze. There are only two people who enter into the dorm Petra and I share without knocking, and I know Petra to be out in the offices still turning in reports.

'_It's alright. It's alright.'_

This mental chant has become a habit to me as of late, and I repeat it now because I know without looking just who it is that comes to me. Without so much as a word of greeting large arms encircle me and James buries his face into my neck.

'_It's alright. It's alright.'_

I am but a statue under him, unmoving and uncompromising. No positive emotions come when he embraces me; no happiness, no joy, no relief, no pleasure… nothing. This too, I've grown accustomed to.

Behind me James breaths deep, brushing his face across my skin and his hands travel down my sides and across my stomach.

I do not move a muscle.

'_It's alright. It's alright.' _I repeat.

I continue to not respond as he begins planting small kisses about my neck, leading to my jaw line, and his fingers un-tuck the hem of my shirt from my pants. My heart begins to pound.

'_It's alright.'_

Heart rate increases as I stare blankly at the stone wall ahead of me, and I do my best to ignore the growing pool of unease forming inside. All this has happened before, so I should be accustomed to it by now, yet even as I think that my heart hitches painfully when his fingers brush the skin of my abdomen, and rigid apprehension roots my body still while his hands glide over my skin.

'_It's alright. It's alright.'_

I wish to move, to stop him, but I don't. It's a lie, but I can't keep from telling myself that maybe, just maybe this will be the day that my fear will end, and that feeling of love I've been waiting for all these months will finally make itself known to me. Love takes time to grow and build. That's all I need, just more time, but my chest aches with tightness as James' fingers slide slowly upward, and with every inch my heart pounds harder and harder. Eventually he reaches the edge of my chest wrappings, and by this time my pulse is so strong I'm sure he can feel it.

'_It's alright. It's alright.'_

But it's not alright. I feel as if my body wishes to explode, for my heart to burst from my chest and pummel itself into the ground. This pounding is different from what I felt when we first started seeing each other. Back then excitement fueled my veins, but now I feel nothing but trepidation so powerful it freezes me in place.

My wrappings loosen, and he starts to work his way under them.

It's not alright.

Lightning, lightning is was energizes me, surging through my nerves with unquestioned speed, power, and purpose. It sings my muscles, spurs them into movement, and before I can even begin to think my hands fly and grasp James', stopping them in place.

"No…"

It's the same ritual every day, I'm powerless to stop it, and the moment that single word comes out of my mouth I know what is to come. Behind me James lets go as if I seared his flesh, and an anger so vivid rises as an unseen wave upon my back.

"Damn it! It's ALWAYS like this with you!"

His tone is harsh, and when I turn to face him he has already backed away a few paces to glare about the room in frustration.

"FUCK. What the hell is your problem!?"

I hate the way his eyes glower at me.

"I just… can't." I tell him steadily, willing my heart to return to its normal pace. "I'm not ready for this."

I've said this all before, and though I'm not exactly afraid of him, I am wary of his swift swings in mood, and I know I must tread carefully.

In answer to me, James lets out a great heaving sigh that sounds like a low growl and draws a large hand through his brown hair.

"Not ready? It's been six fucking months already, what the hell!?"

His frustration is written in harsh lines about his youthful face, and they almost make him look like a different person entirely. Returning his gaze to me, he glowers.

"What do you want me to do Avian!? I can barely even touch you anymore without you getting all defensive and stopping me. Why? It's been over half a year and we still haven't done _anything. _Don't tell me you're really one of those shitty 'uptights' who refuse shagging until marriage. You expect me to just tuck myself in-between my legs and be blue-balled until you eventually feel like letting me have you, whenever the hell that will be?"

I'm still not fully accustomed to the dialect used here, so vocabulary such as 'shagging' and 'blue-balled' go over my understanding, but even without knowing their true definition I can easily surmise their meaning, and it makes me uncomfortable in a way I've never been before.

"I just cannot bring myself to feel at ease with such gestures yet." I tell him steadily, face hard and heart pounding. "I apologize, but your people's ways are still strange to me, and it will take time for me too…"

"Time? How much more time do you need!?"

Irritation grows, and James looks upon me in disbelief.

"Quit using that damn excuse! You're just being a little bitch. 'Oh no! I'm scared! James wants to shag me, how terrible!'"

James' voice contorts so that he mimics me, and he waves his hands in the air in mockery.

"Shut the fuck up, Avian. You're a grown ass woman, so stop cowering like some ten year old bitch. People like each other, they get together, they shag, simple as that."

My body is rigid again, unmoving as he steps closer, boring his eyes into mine.

"I buy you shit and give you someone to talk to, and in return you let me have my way with you. That's how this works." He continues, stepping closer to me again, and through inborn instinct I step away with my back defensively toward the wall. "Haven't I already given you enough? You love me, don't you?"

Automatically my mouth opens in response. Of course I love him, but when I go to speak no words come, and for a second I'm left hanging in silence.

'_I love him. That's what the feeling from before was, right? So why can't I say it?'_

I try and try again to force any type of answer from me, but something stops me, and uncertainty weighs upon my conscious. This is love… right? I know I like him, even now, just a little bit… is that not the same?

I don't know. The only love I've ever known was from my family, so how am I to recognize this different type of love if I've never felt it before? I wish to make myself believe that, yes, I am in love with him, but even my own words fall flat upon my lips. Something isn't right. This… this isn't what I imagined it would be. In my books love was always described as being warm and powerful and kind and energizing, but this… this isn't it. The kindness and warmth are gone. There is no power or energy flowing between me and him, so this can't be love. It can't.

Suddenly, I know that I need to end this. I need to tell him before things go further, but before my words come to me James speaks again and answers for me.

"If you love me," he continues lowly, and I suddenly feel the twinge of warning in my gut. "then you'll give me what I want."

I wish to speak, but James silences me. Before I can process the sudden lustful desire that so abruptly spawned in his eyes, he is upon me. He kisses me with such force that the back of my head cracks against the stone wall behind me, and in one strong, vice like motion his hands are upon me; one painfully forcing itself between my legs and the other sliding under my blouse and grasping my breast.

Instinct kicks in.

I move without moving, and I have no idea what it is that I'm doing until, from the deepest corners of my conscious I watch in mute awe as my hand flawlessly forms a fist, just as Corporal taught me all that time ago, and also as he taught me, my fist flies and James lets out a gravely grunt when my knuckles connect with his temple.

I'm not strong by any means, but the force upon his pressure point is enough to make him release his grip upon me, and he takes a step back to grab at his head.

"Fucking DAMNIT!"

His curse means nothing to me, for deep dread cloaks me then. James was never one who could control his anger well, especially when it comes to physical assault. He doesn't like anyone laying their hands upon him, and the moment I saw him stumble back from my blow I know I've made a terrible mistake.

James is gone, replaced by a dark stranger fueled by dark fury. His eyes are black voids, completely lost in emotional response, and suddenly I no longer see a man at all. Blinded by fury, he is but a beast, wild and domineering. Deeply I know that James has lost his mind, he knows now what he does. I recognize the expression of someone controlled by their emotions, but even though I know James is lost within his own tribulation, it does not stop is body from responding reflexively. All at once, seeing him stare down upon me I fully realize just how much larger and stronger he is than I. He is two feet taller, a giant compared to me, and his body has been bulked up from many years of blacksmithing. His physiology is more ox than man, and just like the herd animal of which he resembles he too is lost in his own instinctive prodding's. It is then, when the full scope of him comes to me that I comprehend that, in this moment, I'm scared of him.

There is danger here.

I wish to speak, to try and calm him as best I can with swiftly spoken words, but not a moment after I open my mouth is the air cut from my throat. He is so much larger than I, oh fate is he so much larger, for his single hand is big enough to encompass the entirety of my neck, and my eyes gape at him.

A switch is flipped.

Self preservation kicks in.

I move without moving.

All I'm aware of is great heat enveloping my right arm, and before I know what is happening James shrieks in pain and backs away. I take in air with greed all the while I watch as he clasps hands to his cheek, blood pouring in rivers down his skin from large gashes.

"THE FUCK!"

I'm stunned. What just happened? I'm frozen again, but this time from awe, and it takes a second for me to come to myself and I glance down at my hand. Except it's not _my _hand that hands by my side, instead a large limb composed of lightweight flesh clings to me, and I blink, unable to speak. How is it that I transformed only a portion of myself into my giant? It has never happened before, I've only morphed into full body, yet here I am wielding a single limb from my alternate form, and the blood dripping from the ends of my blackened claws startle me.

I struck him.

Still in shock I raise my eyes again to James' floundering as he tries to stall the bleeding. Picking up the nearest cloth to him, in this case my uniform jacket, he compresses the fabric to his face and he locks his gaze with mine. The black void is gone, replaced by his customary steady gaze, and now that he veil of wrath has been lifted from his eyes, I see a slight confusion plaguing him there. He knows not what just transpired here either.

For a long time we just stare at each other, both in hushed wonder, and though I am glad to see him return to his right mind, something climbs its way up my chest. His gaze is muddled, uncertain, as if he is surprised by his own actions. I recognize somewhere deep in him that James, truly, did not mean for that to happen, but even with that information an influx of emotion rises, and the heat of an emotion I so rarely experience overcomes me.

Anger.

He doesn't love me. I'm hard pressed to believe he ever loved me at all. All those soft spoken words and gentle caresses mean nothing to me anymore. All of a sudden, nothing concerning him matters to me. Fury begins as a small flame, then grows with each pump of my heart, giving my body more and more energy. It holds me still, pounding through me in rampant prowess, and it forces a simple phrase from my lips.

"You lied to me."

It is but a whisper at first, causing James to raise a brow in question for he did not hear, and the next time I repeat it my voice is louder, more solid, and I feel my eyes narrow into a foreign look of contempt.

"You LIED to me!" I repeat, and like opening floodgates within my soul, words pour from me. "I thought you cared for me, but you don't! How DARE you lay your hands upon me in such a way! Have you no control!?"

"I didn't mean to do that." James quickly retorts, not exactly remorseful but not upset either. "I don't know what came over me. I just.. blacked out."

I have none of it. For once in my life, my empathetic ears are closed off.

"Blacked out… is that your excuse?" I spit. "I thought you loathed excuses. That is what you told me but a moment before, you two-faced hypocrite!"

"Don't yell at me! You're the one who nearly gouged my eye out!" James spits back, clinging to the jacket upon his cheek. "You just attacked me with your titan bullshit! What are you pissed off for!?"

"Pissed off!?"

I never knew of the bottled up wrath I had kept inside of me all these months, but now that I've raised my voice it all seems to come out with vengeance, and I wish to strike him down into pieces with words alone.

"You treacherous serpent!" I yell back, surprised at the amount of venom dripping from my lips. "You are the one at fault here! How many weeks have I tolerated your belligerent vulgarity and your extensive physical assault upon me!? I told you time and time again about my feelings concerning those matters, yet you did not heed me. My wishes are but dirt under your boot for all the concern you've shown me as of late! Those grotesque swine you've spent so much enjoyable time socializing with, they've poisoned you, twisted your being into that of some despicable fiend. Of course I will feel the need to transform when I believe my life to be in jeopardy! I run on instinct, remember? You should have thought of such a thing before grasping about my neck with your filthy hands! The only reason I never did so before is because I truly thought that things would return to the way they used to be, that I would eventually find what it is that is described in the tomes of my childhood; of the beautiful blossom of emotion that comes between two people over a developed period of time. I truly believed that my affection for you would grow, and yours as well, but I presume myself to be gravely mistaken."

"What the hell are you even talking about!?" James yells back, seemingly unperturbed by my rant. "You're just talking crazy shit now."

"No, I'm not. You know _exactly_ what it is I am speaking of." I glower, then suddenly a dark sheet of hurt covers me and I cannot help the feeling of betrayal that burns my throat. "I thought you loved me James…"

At this James blinks and looks highly astounded.

"Loved? Who the hell said anything about that?"

My breath stops.

"W… what?"

James holds my gaze steadily before letting out a single, unbelieving chuckle, and I swear the expression he wears now makes him look as if he is trying to figure out some exceptionally bothersome puzzle.

"Since when did I ever say that I loved you?" he states simply, and though the room around me is solid and unmoving, I can feel the area about my body begin to sink. "Look, you were… interesting at first, and I honestly DID like you. You were different, and nice, and you're even kind of cute, but even back then I knew none of this was going to go anywhere."

I do not want to listen, but I am immovable as he continues in that same mellow tone.

"I liked you, really I did, but love? That's way too deep for me to get caught up in. Besides, what we had in the beginning was fun and all, but after a while I realized you were more trouble than you're worth. For one, the way you talk is annoying and makes me feel like an idiot with the way you always use big words and shit like that. You're small as hell, not to mention pretty stupid, and I won't buy the whole 'I haven't lived here long enough to understand your culture' shit again. You've had enough time, you're just retarded with some things. And the staring we get…"

At this he groans and turns away.

"Ever since I started dating you people have been looking at me weird, and it pisses me off. The reason I never to into the city with you is because I'm tired of all the shitty looks people give us. Being out in public with a shifter, DATING one, I didn't know that it would make me look like some kind of monstrous bastard too. All I ever get are funny looks, and I just don't feel like dealing with it anymore."

I wish for his words to be lies, just more of his deceit, but when he returns his gaze to mine I know every sentence to be true.

"You're cool and all I guess, but I won't deal with this anymore. You can't help that your half freak, but you could at least quick acting so strange. There's no point in talking like you do, who are you trying to impress anyway? No one cares about your damn vocabulary or how many books you've read. Who the hell even reads books anymore aside from that sissy baby-geek Armin?"

"Don't you DARE insult Armin!" I sneer at him, and my fists clench in rage. "He's a hundred times more intellectual than you, and more of a man than you'll ever be! Your cantankerous insecurity concerning your palpable lack of self assurance grants you no justification for berating others this way!"

"See! That's the shit I'm talking about!"

James glares at me, pointing as if I'm some kind of strange creature.

"Stop doing that! It's like you're speaking another language and it pisses me off. NO ONE CARES AVIAN. Why can't you just be fucking NORMAL for once!? THIS is why NO ONE will ever love you!"

My heart stops completely, and James seems to notice my abrupt halt for he straitens his back and lifts his chin.

"Don't tell me you actually believed you'd ever find someone who could care about you like that." He mutters. "Like I said, you're interesting and kind of cute to look at, but at the end of it all… no one will ever love you. You're a freak, remember? A titan. Who in their right mind would ever fall for some kind of half human-giant mix? Even if they did, all you'll have are freaking monster babies that no one will want. Face it: you're not human, not really. You may look like one of us, but you'll never fully belong. You know about what those other three shifters did to us: Annie, Reiner and Berthold. They killed thousands of us, broke the Walls, tried to wipe us out. Eren is an exception but even then no one really likes him, even after all he's done with retaking Trost, Wall Rose, and Shiganshina. He's done WAY more than you ever have, and the government and Wall Cult still want him dead, not to mention half the people inside the Walls don't trust him. What makes you think you're any different?"

I've never seen him wear and expression so serious, and my vision narrows until it is only him that I see.

"Quit lying to yourself. You may be on our side now, but no one will want you like that. The only people who could ever love you are your family, and their dead. Let it go already. They aren't coming back."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. How… just how could such harsh things come from the same mouth that once spoke nothing but sweetness to me? I won't take it, not anymore. I'm fed up with his abuse, and my family….

'_No one speaks ill of them and gets away with it.'_

Wrath feels alien to me, the searing heat burning my limbs uncomfortably, but I do not question it. Instead, it fuels my movements and steadies my gaze and dries my tears. I've had enough.

"Do not speak of which you do not know." I tell him darkly, and without any fear I stalk toward him and glare up at him with such detestation that my eyes burn. "And as for your request, I shall grant it."

It's almost satisfying seeing the confusion that springs to his face, and I feel no guilt when I take stance and ram my elbow into his gut. Immediately James gaps and kneels, clutching his abdomen with both arms, and I stare down at his pitiable form.

"You want me to be normal, then I shall do just that. Instead of catering to my abnormal sense of empathy, I shall ignore it and respond to this situation just as a _normal_ girl would do. Congratulations, you are now disgracefully dismissed, or in _normal _terms…" I mock, "… you're single. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Without another word or so much as a glance, I stalk out the threshold of mine and Petra's shared dorm and slam the door behind me.

XXX

Anger, nothing but anger burns me now. Despite the temperature outside being quite harsh in wintery chill I ignore the stinging cold upon my bare arms and stalk across the courtyard, dismissing every glance cast my way. I walk without thinking, yet I am unsurprised as to where my feet take me. Marching with solid steps, I stop outside the stall I know to be mine and open the hatch. As is his way, Stonewall trots to me and places his large, broad head upon my shoulder in greeting, an act of which I happily return.

"Hello there." I greet, and though I've not been in his company for more than a few seconds, already the searing heat in my body begins to die as acid recedes back into my stomach.

I know Stone feels my anxiety, he always does, for he lifts his head and rests his muzzle upon my forehead so that his dark eyes can stare into mine. I smile.

"I missed you too, friend. And I will be well." I tell him, giving his face a light scratch before gently taking my head away from his. "Listen, what say you about taking a ride? Long has it been since our last excursion."

Stone lifts his grand head and gives it a vivid shake and paws at the ground with a single feathered hoof all the while letting out a nicker so eager that I can't help but laugh.

"Well that is a yes if I've ever heard one." I chuckle. "Very well then, let us be off."

Taping the command for 'follow me' upon his neck, I turn and together we both make the short hike to the fenced in corral. It isn't as grand as the woods near my home, lacking both the foliage we both love as well as the seemingly endless space, but we make do with what we are given and are happy with it. After making sure the wooden gate is closed, Stone lowers his head, and with ease gained over almost two decades of being together, I mount him and we set off.

In my haste, I didn't even bother with fitting him with saddle and stirrups, but such a thing is of no consequence to me. It has been a while since I've ridden bareback anyway, and it's nice to ride with no restrictions and equipment to tether us down. I need not of their assistance as well. Once upon his back, it feels natural to me, not having anything to hold onto or steady myself with. I'm so small that he barely notices my weight, and I sit higher up upon him so my legs can fit about his shoulders.

As it always does before a ride, my chest begins to pound with adrenaline, and even before I give the command for him to go, Stone has already read my intentions and begun. We start of in a trot, but after a few seconds it turns into a gallop, and a few more after that, we are in a full sprint, his steady stride and pull of muscles propelling us forward across the empty corral.

It's exhilarating.

I hang on with nothing but the muscles in my legs, and since I never use a bridle, I lean forward slightly and rest my hands upon his neck. Wind cuts through me, tossing my hair and Stonewall's mane into a flurry of gray and ginger, but I do not feel the sting of cold. This is one of the things I live for, this feeling of power and flight upon the back of a horse. The military issued mare I have is also well trained and a good deal faster than Stone, but there is just something about my best friend that no other horse can ever replicate. He is not as swift as they, or as slim and lean, but he has a certain strength to him unlike any I've ever seen. After so many years, Stonewall is like a brother to me, strong and steady just like Romulus was, and though he is growing into his age considering the white streaks appearing in his fur, his spirit hasn't aged a day.

Without speaking, I know that he is aware of my turmoil. I don't know how I can tell, but I just do. It is an understanding we've both grown to have after so many years; he can read my body language just as well as I can read his. It is this very understanding that comes into play while we ride, and I begin to lose myself.

With James, it was easy for me to remain angry, to have his words and presence fuel my animosity, but out here with nothing but Stonewall and the wind, my previous rage is swept away. I sit upon his back, blinking against the winter gusts, and I choke. Oddly, it is not losing James that hurts me most, or even James himself, but the content of his words.

'_Why can't you just be fucking normal for once!? This is why no one could ever love you!'_

My throat tightens.

'_He can't be right… he just can't. I'm not that strange… am I? I can find someone who loves me back… I can… I can…'_

My hands clench.

'_I can…' _I repeat, but with each mental uttering my mental voice grows weaker and weaker, and the weight of reality rests upon me. _'There… has to be someone… there has to…'_

Not even I can believe my own lie. I loathe to admit it, but deep in the most intimate domain of my heart I believe James' words to be true.

'_He was right, of course. Who could ever love me? I'm a freak after all. To wish for a man to love me back is unreasonable and impossible. Such a thing is akin to expecting a rabbit to fall in love with a wolf. I'm the very embodiment of what humanity loathes most. How much of a fool must I be to believe that what I read reflects life as it is? There is no hero waiting for me here, no knight in shining armor or prince to sweep me off my feet. There is no man who could care about me despite the fearful power I have inside. There is no such thing. There will never be such a thing. I'm a fool, an outlandish, naïve fool.'_

My face is numb from the cold, but I feel the warmth of tears beginning to trail down my cheeks.

'_No wonder Corporal was always angry with me; he knew what would come of this, that no one could possibly love me the way James acted like he could. What I mistook for jealousy that night in his office was nothing more than mounted frustration at my ignorance. He was right, he's always right. I should have listened, but I didn't.'_

Now I am paying the price for my insolence. With no one to watch me and no will to hold myself together any longer, a single choking sob thrusts its way from my chest and I buckle. Another sob comes, then another, repeating and repeating until I am left crumpled upon Stonewall's back. It hurts, it hurts so much, and there is no cure for this ailment that pains me now.

I'm barely aware of Stonewall slowing beneath me, ears turned back at the sound of my sorrow, and under the canopy of a single tree mercifully left to thrive within the otherwise barren pasture, he stops. A horse can neither speak nor give condolences, but I find comfort in him anyway. He does not protest as I bury my face into his neck and grip his mane in my tiny fingers. I'm sure that I must be tugging, but he does not complain; he merely stands and waits for my agony to pass.

For a long time we stay there, and months worth of pent up misery and unhappiness pour out of me until there are no more tears for me to shed. Throughout it all, it is not James that I weep for, though his betrayal does wound me. No, it is my own fate that grieve over. Within these walls with thousands upon thousands of people, there is not a one who will ever commit their life to me… to love me… and that is the most painful thing of all.

With the entirety of humanity about me, I'm still alone.

XXX

It is nearly sun fall by the time Stonewall and I return to the gate. I've shed everything I can, I've nothing left.

Once at the gate I hop off his back and turn to him one last time. His eyes stare back into mine with such depth that I feel his gaze pierce into my very being, and he lets out a low, soft grunt.

"I will be well." I tell him, drawing my hands across his muzzle. "Do not pity me. You have done wonders to still my aching soul, but I must leave you now…"

In response he pushes into my hands and flares his nostrils in a sigh. He does not wish for me to go. I frown and stare at him, and I can see from the expression in his eyes to the lowered dock of his tail that he wants to stay outside with me.

"I apologize, but I cannot."I tell him then, an idea coming to mind, I smile.

Normally, every horse is to be put into their box, but I know how much he loathes his box. Stone is a stallion accustomed to roaming as he pleases, and the confines of his wooden stall hurt him just as much at it hurts me. So in a stroke of rebellion, I pat his head, step out the open gate, then close it behind me with him inside. Stonewall swishes his tail and leans his head across the fence, a question playing upon his eyes.

"It's fine." I tell him. "I care not if I get in trouble. I may not have the power to help my own troubles, but I can help you with yours. Go and run."

His ears flick at my command, yet he stays rooted to the fence.

"It's alright. You've been confined to that box for too long. Go and roam for me please. It will bring me much joy if you did."

With stern hand, I pat the command for 'Go' upon his neck, and once again speak it aloud. Another moment passes during which he does nothing, but when I neither speak again nor look away, the eventually turns. Before making my way down the path away from him, I look back over my shoulder to see him buck, a gesture of which I haven't seen in quite a long time, and I smile as I see him gallop away, the dock of his tail erect in pure bliss.

'_Be joyous my friend, for it brings me joy as well.'_

My walk is solitary with no other soul in sight, yet as I wander down this dirt road toward the place where I know my friends to be, I do not wish to return just yet. Instead, I carve a path through rough, dead grass behind the Recon buildings, eyes upon the monolith of stone rising in the distance.

All is quiet as I walk, and it's even quieter as I use my newly discovered partial transforming to scale the Wall surrounding Stohess. Once up top I walk.

And walk.

And walk.

Following the path of the Wall, I make my way around its vast perimeter until I eventually tire of walking and find a seat near the edge and face the great city below.

The sun is on its downward decent, just beginning to color the sky in pastel hues of pink, purple, and gold as I take my seat upon the chilling stone. Once settled, I cast my eyes over the valley of buildings below and I draw my legs to my chest. Gazing out, it is easy to get lost in the beauty of the scene. Though I've lived here for over a year now, the sheer scale of this civilization still astounds me.

Whether intended or not, this strange place has become my home now, the house out in the woods beyond the farthest Wall all but abandoned. It is provoking of thought for me to stare out upon the world below, fifty meters in the sky. I yearn for my home back where I was born, for the forest I know so well, the land I've claimed my own, yet I find it difficult to want to leave this place as well. This city may not be where I grew up, but it is here that I found purpose, friends, a second beginning. It is here that I met Petra and Eren, Oluo and Gunther and Eld and Hanji. It is here that I can put my abilities to work, to serve people, help them. It is here that I gained another chance to live, a chance to be more than a woman living in ambiguous space in the woods with no other goal than to survive until the next dawn.

Despite myself, I've grown to love this land and the people in it.

'_Yet such feelings are one-sided.'_

Eyes locked on to the golden sky before me, my thoughts wander. I am no longer sad, but neither am I content. I'm in some mysterious space in-between. I do not hurt anymore, I've done my crying, and James is but the shadow of a memory upon my mind, yet I still ponder over the events of today with calm acceptance.

Somehow I'm not entirely surprised by James' rough treatment of me. I've noticed his growing agitation for a while now, and with him being a man that is not skilled in controlling his anger, such a thing is to be expected. It hurt of course, and my skin is tender when I draw my fingers across it, but I can't exactly say that I did not predict this.

I was just too blinded by my own childish hope to give it any thought. And to make my decision even worse, I had someone very dear to me warn me of it all, and I didn't listen.

I'm such a fool.

'_I deserve every bit of retort Corporal throws at me.' _I muse, burying my neck into my folded arms. _'I should have believed him, but my indignation barricaded my sense of truth, and look where it brought me.'_

I'm such a fool, I can't repeat that enough. I made the wrong choice, and even long after I realized that I was mistaken, I idiotically refused to back down and give in. I was naïve in thinking that things would go back to the way they were between James and I, I believed it so much to the point where all joy was taken from me, and it took an assault that made me fear for my life to get me to realize my folly. Corporal was right to say what he did to me that night.

'_When he eventually fucks up, don't come crying to me.' _I repeat, letting Corporal's words ring in my ears.

I do not blame him for anything. James and I screwed up, and I do not fault Corporal one bit for not wishing to hear about my troubles after putting in so much effort to help me avoid it in the first place. If I were in his position, I would not bother to listen to myself either.

I'm unmoving upon the wall with my arms tight about my knees and my eyes staring lost into the sky, and though I twitch nary a muscle my chest tightens and a stinging that has nothing to do with the harsh winter wind blowing about my form pierces me.

'_Corporal…'_

A deep, sad longing sits in my abdomen when he comes to mind, as well as a burning of shame in my throat.

'_He must hate me by now...'_

Pain aches inside me, a clenching about my center that feels as if life itself is trying to squeeze the breath out of me. It hurts, oh does it hurt, but I'm well past familiar with this pain; I've only felt it nearly every day the past four months.

Since the time James began to change and the touching started, I had found myself making habit out of getting lost in thought, of purposely distracting my mind with daydreams. It was one of the ways that I learned to cope with James' altered character while I was with him, and back then, I thought it treacherous of me to let my mind stray away from him, but thinking back upon it now, I don't feel so anymore. I wish I had done it more often.

During those long days after missions when James was exceptionally irritable and forceful, I found comfort in my thoughts and how they helped me ignore the sensation of his hands running about me. I would think about my home, my family, my friends. I would visualize scenes from my favorite childhood stories, relive old memories, even ponder over the future. While all those topics were good and well, there was always one that stood out to me the most, that helped me feel most at peace even while James muttered and cursed about me.

This topic, of course, was always of Corporal.

Even in thought he makes me feel safe, and all throughout these past long months I yearned for nothing more than to be released from James' grasp and return to helping my captain with his work in his office, just like I used to do.

Those days were the best. Talk was seldom and rare coming from him, but I always enjoyed his silent company, especially after the retaking of Shiganshina earlier this year. After I got injured, I wasn't expecting anything to happen, yet I was pleasantly surprised and grateful for his sudden increase in interest in me. For once, he began asking me question and, though they were nothing special, I was overjoyed at the prospect that, after so many months of trying, that Corporal finally began to return some of my familiarity, if only by a little.

It makes no sense as to why such small talk made me so happy, but it did. It's in those minute, casual conversations that I really began to see him clearly, that I began to understand the depth of his character.

It was those talks that made me realize that he is more than just a soldier, more than just scowls, insults, and strict discipline. He never spoke of himself, but I learned much about him just by observing. He and Romulus are quite similar in demeanor, and though Romulus was just quiet and rarely spoke instead of being prickly and closed off like Corporal is, their behavior is similar. After years of figuring out how to read my brother's unspoken language, I found it easy enough to use that very same judgment to decipher Corporal's actions, and it was in those unconscious gestures that I began to see.

I noticed simple, silly things at first, such as the odd way he holds his tea cups and how he always leans his head slightly to the right when he is reading. There was never anything for me to find in little quirks like those, but I enjoyed noticing them nevertheless. It's traits like that that make us individual, and I often times wondered over why or how they even began in the first place.

But more significant than those petty oddities were the slight changes in posture or expression that gave evidence to his thoughts, and it was those hidden messages that I strove to notice. It took a long while for me to recognize most of them, but once I did, a new layer of Corporal was opened up to me, and I began to understand his true feelings hidden behind that calm façade he always wears.

I began to notice the slight narrowing of his eyes whenever he concentrates on a task, the tightness in his lips when something is on his mind, the almost unperceivable downward slope of his brows that only happens when he reads over casualty reports. I noticed it all, and with no spoken words or explanation I started to comprehend his seemingly emotionless face.

Corporal isn't an emotionless man, far from it. The thing about him is that he is impossible to read, and it's difficult to see the kindness and good in him, unless you know what to look for. And after some time, I learned exactly what to look for.

I never missed the way his face would slacken just the tiniest bit in comfortable ease when he was with his squad.

I took notice whenever the tone of his voice would harden or soften depending on who he was talking to.

I saw the way he calmly stood by the injured and dying, how his hand would clasp their's just a little tighter in the seconds before they breathed their last.

Others say that he doesn't care about his soldiers, that loss does not bother him as it does the rest of the legion, but they're wrong. Corporal DOES care, I'm sure he always has. He fights for us, advises us, protects us…

How can any one man take on so much responsibility and not go mad?

That is one thing I've always admired about him. He's infinitely strong it seems. As long as there are soldiers to fight beside him, he will never falter, his resolve will never weaken….

He is literal Leader of the soldiers, 'Humanity's Strongest'.

And it is that very man, in all his strength, prowess, strictness, aloofness, and rigidity that has me helplessly enraptured.

It's impossible to tell just when it was that became aware of my feelings for him, or even when I began to like him in such a way in the first place. Even _how _is a grand mystery to me. He's brutal, severe, closed off, vulgar, commanding, and even intimidating. He isn't anything near to the princes and men I grew up reading about, yet somehow, it is him that I've grown to have deep feelings for.

Sitting alone atop the Wall, I stare out into the glowing sky and I let myself get lost in him.

Perhaps it isn't such a wonder as to why I feel this way. Thinking of him now, my chest warms and tightens in a pleasant way, and fantasies play about my head in moving pictures.

Not only is he a diamond in the ruff, but he is as appealing as a man can ever be in my mind. I could never help but stare at him whenever he happened to walk by. I've always been aware of just how attractive he is, from the sculpt of his face to his raven hair and piercing eyes, but it was only after Shiganshina that I really began to appreciate it. Just the sight of him is enough to make my heart pound in earnest, and that moment after the mission…

Heat rises in my cheeks despite myself when I think back upon the day I treated Corporal for the kink in his shoulder. I must have seen hundreds of men half dressed by that time, but none of them invoked the kind of response Corporal did then, and I'm both enamored and confused by it. Is it normal for someone to be affected so strongly by the sight of another's body? I've no idea, it had never happened to me before, and I ponder over the feeling in interest.

In my mind's eye I see him just as he was, and even a simple vision of a memory causes my heart to beat rapidly and blood to flood my face. Corporal is so well built, tight skin drawn over a body made of nothing but honed, lean muscle. Even now I gape at just how good-looking he is, and I can feel the ghost of his body under my fingers. He was so strong, so warm, and there is something oddly fascinating about the scars and slight callous gained from years of 3DMG usage upon his skin. It's the body of a warrior, sturdy and powerful, yet even in its ruggedness I had been intoxicated by the feel of it. I had purposely taken my time treating him just so I could feel and look at him just a bit longer.

His back was smooth for the most part, and even relaxed his muscles bulged and dipped in a way so tantalizing that I drew my hands over his form just to feel the valleys. It felt good to me, feeling him like that, and from what little I could see of him, Corporal seemed as if he enjoyed it as well.

Offhandedly, I wish to know if his front feels the same, and I yearn to glide my hands over his chest just to know what it feels like….

A jolt spurs me from my ponderings and, at the realization of what I've been fantasizing about, my body grows unimaginably tight and hot, and though I'm alone I bury my face in my arms out of embarrassment.

He's almost beautiful in a way. Everything from the soft tresses of his ebony hair to his narrow eyes, his slim face and strong build, his steady gaze and mellow voice…

'_Oh fate…'_

I'm so attracted to him, I don't know what to do. Every bit of me longs to be with him now, a thousand times more so than James _ever _did. Is this what love feels like, this deep affection I have? I'm unsure, I don't even know if this feeling even has a name, but I'm completely taken by it. I want to know more, I _need _to know.

But… I can't.

All of the warmth and tightness in me disperses, and a sort of cold plummets into my being.

If I'm honest with myself, I'll likely never know more about this feeling I have. I'm… unlovable. That's what James said, right? I'm interesting, and cute in the face, but I have this terrible power in me, a power that sets me apart from the rest of mankind.

I'm the embodiment of what humanity hates most, that's right… Such a thing as wonderful as love will never come to me. Why would it? Who would ever be attracted to me in such a way when there are more than enough 'normal' girls to go around?

I pull my head out from within my arms and return to looking at the sky, and at the sight of the setting sun I grow oddly calm.

What is the point of getting my hopes up? I do not need such a thing as love to survive. I did just as well without it before, and I shall do so again. I do not need a man to fulfill me. No man would have me anyway…

Yet as I try to convince myself a vivid image of Corporal comes to mind, and it feels like his eyes stare straight into mine. As expected, my heart quickens again, but I swiftly make it still.

'_He most of all. Corporal… is in a place above what I can reach, and he is a leader as well. He has neither time nor heart to drabble with the likes of me.'_

It's difficult, but with a little maneuvering of emotion, I bring myself to accept this fact with solemn dignity.

'_It is what it is. No use fretting over what cannot be changed.'_

And with that, I push all thoughts of him to the back of my mind.

XXX

I've no idea how long I sit there just staring out into space, neither feeling nor thinking. My limbs might as well be frozen as cold as they are, and chill bumps dot my skin like a rash, yet I refuse my move. Instead I watch the sun slowly set, lost in a daze, and just let the wind as well as the colors of the dying light upon the horizon draw me away.

So lost in daze am I that I do not notice the presence standing a few steps behind me until they abruptly speak.

"Skipping out on your nursing duties like a lazy-ass, I see."

I jump at the sudden voice, and my head swirls around until my gaze lands upon the form of the person I least expected. It takes me a second to register who it is before my body allows me to respond.

"Corporal…" I breathe, more than surprised to see him all the way here.

How did he find me? Why? Surely he has work to finish? Yet here he is, and just as it always does, my chest gives a slight leap at the sight of him.

'_He really is amazing, isn't he?'_

Instinctively I wish to greet him, but words stop in my throat and I purse my lips.

'_I can't. He hates me. The only reason he must be here is to chastise me.'_

His handsome face is completely blank, and though his eyes are just as piercing as always they reveal nothing to me. He is a closed book.

Gathering my thoughts, I do my best to squash the thudding in my chest and cast my eyes away.

"Are you here to order me back to my station?" I question flatly.

A second passes.

"No."

'_So he requires my assistance with something them.'_

"Is there something you need of me then?"

Another second, then his voice calmly repeats the same answer.

"No."

I'm confused. If he is not here for those reasons, then why? My eyes slide back over to him in vain hope of figuring out his motive, but of course there is nothing for me to find. Corporal is very skilled in that way, of keeping his intentions hidden, and it is an ability he has honed to an art so fine that not even I can peer around it.

I wish to say something, anything, but nothing comes. What is there for me to say? We have hardly spoken in months, and the burning of shame and guilt over my disregard of his advice renders me mute.

'_There is nothing I can say to make amends for my actions anyway. What's done is done.'_

So in the end I keep my mouth tightly shut.

Silence passes between us, and each second makes me wish to fidget in place. He's just staring at me, steady and impassive. What is he thinking? It's impossible to tell, and I refuse to ask.

More time passes in that way, until eventually he speaks up again.

"I saw that asshat Tucker with his group of shitty friends."

I cast my eyes away. Of course that is what he would speak about.

"I see." I reply flatly, unfeeling.

My curt answer must irritate him for he speaks again.

"So instead of goofing off with them, you're up here? I thought you were dating him. Aren't you supposed to be all over each other or some kind of weird shit like that?"

'_I believed so as well, but not anymore. That connection has died.'_

At the mention of James' name, I sink lower into my arms and hide my neck with my hair without responding. I do not want to talk about James.

Corporal returns to staring at me in silence, and I feel his eyes burning into my skin. He knows something happened, I'm certain he can tell. I both hope and dread for him to mention it. It's an odd feeling, and it makes me uncomfortable. Why does he keep looking at me like that? What is he trying to find? Why does he even care? Corporal loathes James, always has. Why bring him up now?

I wish to flee, to hide, to do anything just so I can get out from under his calculating gaze, yet it is that vey gaze that holds me fast and renders me unable to move. I'm trapped, and he must see the distress in my features for I can feel his eyes narrow upon my face.

"What happened."

It's a direct order, and so accustomed am I to obeying him that I return my gaze to his face despite myself, but once there I once again freeze. He can't know, he mustn't know, I don't want him to know. What happened between James and I is a burden for me and me alone. It was my own fault that such a thing happened, and to speak of it now will only do to increase the amount of shame I already feel concerning the whole matter. Corporal will only sneer and reiterate that he was right, anyway. He isn't a man that takes disobedience lightly, and I'm sure there would only be extensive punishment for me if he finds out.

For the first time in a very long time, there is something else that weighs against me more so than honesty.

"I…" I begin, hesitant against the blowing wind, yet the lie forces itself from my lips. "It… It's nothing."

I feel the physical air about me shift as well as the unseen atmosphere that has sprung between Corporal and I, and a certain knot forms in my throat. I hate lying, I really do. Nothing comes of it except misery and shame, yet it is that very shame that spurred me to tell such an untruth in the first place. It's childish of me, yet the inevitable burden and consequences that come of deceit does not weigh upon me as strongly as the humiliation I should feel admitting my fault to the one man who knew how my endeavor would pan out. I made a complete, utter fool of myself, and for this moment all I wish for is to find a crevasse in which to hide myself and just wait for death to take me.

Corporal's eyes are daggers upon my skin, slicing into the very heart of my being and I whither under his heavy gaze. He doesn't believe me, and why would he when the evidence of my falsehood wears itself upon my features and in my voice? As such, I'm unsurprised when I hear the telltale tap of his boot upon the stone, a habit indicating he is not pleased, and his voice cuts with severe purpose.

"Now we both know that's complete bullshit. You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

'_I know.' _I tell myself when I look back up at him, and I hate how he sounds so disappointed in me.

"What happened." He says again, though not as callous as before, I cannot bring myself to hold his gaze and instead concentrate on his feet.

I know I cannot fool him, yet I am still hesitant. I'm embarrassed by the sequence of events that brought me here, and I wish not to speak of them, but I know there is no hiding from him anymore. Corporal is a very intelligent man, more so than people give him credit for, and as such he has come to demand nothing less than honest, satisfactory answers to his inquiries. I know I need to tell him, there is no way that I can NOT tell him, yet there is something of which I need to understand first, so instead of replying directly, I craft a question of my own.

"May… I ask something first?"

Corporal does not move aside from a curt nod, and at his approval a wave of heat tinges my cheeks.

"I… apologize if this is inappropriate," I begin, voice unsteady. "but… is intimate physical contact between involved persons common here?"

You could hear a pin drop with as quiet as the air is between us, and it takes a long moment before Corporal flatly answers.

"Yes."

I figured as much. Of course it would be common here, it's exactly as what I read it to be. Guilt rises in my throat.

'_Perhaps I was wrong after all then.' _I muse softly, before I speak again.

"Are… we supposed to enjoy it?"

Again, nothing but heavy silence, and I wait for his reply with beating heart and held breath. After what feels like an eternity, he moves.

"Yes…"

My heart falls. James was right, of course. He's lived here all his life, it's only expected of him to know how courtship and relationships are supposed to progress. I was mistaken in my feelings of hesitance around him, wrong in my dislike of his constant physical contact. It's normal here, yet because I am foreign to this place and it's culture, I naively believed that I could skirt around such socially accepted expectations without qualm, but not anymore. James was right to be angry with me. I messed up what we had by sinking into my meekness and leaning upon uncertainty. No wonder he was so frustrated with me.

My face falls when I mutter a half hearted answer.

"I presumed as much. I should have known…"

I can feel Corporal's eyes harden.

"Why?"

'_Why? Why what?'_

I knit my brows in confusion and look at him, not understanding. He must see my confusion for he asks again even though I know how much he loathes repeating himself.

"Why ask such a random ass question?"

If possible, my expression falls further at his heavy tone.

"I inquired because… I needed to know if I was at fault." I begin, and despite myself I feel the stirring of a hundred emotions battle within me. "I had to understand if my misgivings were out of place, and from your answer, I can only believe that they were."

Corporal remains as stoic as ever.

"Why does it matter?" he replies, almost annoyed. "Of course you should enjoy it. That's the whole point. Why did you even need to ask?"

A ball of shame, guilt and something else chokes me, and I barely manage to squeeze words out.

"Because I didn't."

As if it was the key to opening a gate within myself, words bubble up in me, and it's almost painful as they force their way past my closed throat and out from my lips.

"I don't understand." I mutter desperately, and I wince at the pain I feel not only in my body but my heart as well. "Something is ill with me, there must be. No matter how I tried, I could never bring myself to fully delight in James' attention. It was… nice… at first, but when it began to escalate, so did my uncertainty, and he began to get perturbed with me because of it. I didn't give his change in demeanor much thought, but perhaps I should have. I naively assumed that the phase would pass, but it never did, and now…"

I can't help but turn away, and I continue in nothing more than a whisper.

"… he reached his limit with me today."

Shame overwhelms me, and I can almost feel James' hands wrapped about my neck again. I'm torn between the battle of emotions that plays in me now. One moment I'm angry, the next accepting, then it turns to shame, indignation, then anger again. I know not what I'm supposed to feel. According to Corporal's answers and what James said to me, I'm a fault. James was only doing what is expected of couples who life here, yet I denied him such a privilege thanks to my apparent ignorance. Never has my lack of knowledge concerning relationships with other people been so prevalent. I'm so awkward, clumsy, socially self conscious in everything I do, and finally it has all come to a head.

I'll never belong here, not fully. I'm too… strange, too odd.

For the first time in my life, I really begin to loathe who I am.

Why can't I be normal like Petra or Mikasa? Why do I have to constantly struggle with wondering whether what I do or say is socially acceptable, always questioning my every action and thought just so I can appear to fit in? I stick out from the others like a sore thumb, an abnormality among a group of abnormals. Everyone I know is different in their own way, with Jean and his prideful horse face, Sasha and her obsessive eating, Connie and his ridiculous antics and stunts. Even people like Hanji with her eccentric love of giants and Eren with his indomitable shifting power and greed for revenge, not even they are as much of an aberration as I.

I'm a freak, just as James said I was.

That is what hurts me most of all, not James himself but the truth in his words. I'm a weed trying to thrive in a garden, it just won't do. Though I'll always do my best to try and learn all I can to fit in, I'll never fully acclimate, and eventually when all is said and done I'll be plucked from the soil bed and set apart so as I will not tarnish the beauty of the others about me.

'_Not even Corporal will vouch for me then.' _I muse, watching him from the corner of my eye.

An ensemble of emotion plays about his gaze, and though I do not wish to exert the energy required to figure out just what plagues his mind, I continue to watch him with idle curiosity, waiting to see his reaction to my answer.

I'm waiting for anger to flare up, for indignation to darken his features and annoyance to color his voice when he finally decides to reprimand me for my idiotic ramblings, but as seconds tick by, nothing happens. I watch in wonder as his gaze scans my body as if looking for something, and I feel heat wherever he looks. When he finally stops to stare at where I hide my neckline from view, my heart begins to beat harder.

'_Do not tell me…'_

No. There is no possible way for him to know about my injury there, but when his gaze hardens and he starts his way toward me, my eyes widen and my chest tightens. When next I blink Corporal's face is right in front of mine, so close that I can see the pattern of his eyes, and my breath nearly stops. I wish to move, but his cool gaze has me transfixed, and I become lost in his gray orbs.

I do not know what to make of his close proximity, I'm flustered enough at it is, but when he moves my cheeks only grow more heated. Though his skin is callous from years of fighting, his fingers are gentle, almost soft upon me as he takes my chin, and I have no heart to fight him when he lightly lifts my head.

Instantly his steady gaze that was calm but a second before sharpens, and a fury so dark discolors them that I openly gape. He is completely still, a statue beside me as he stares at my neck, and I dare not move. With lethal intent, a single word escapes him, threatening and murderous.

"Why."

I do not know if it is the intense power behind his gaze or a sort of want to relieve myself of such a burden, but I do not hesitate to answer him.

My voice is steady in mute wonder.

"I refused to give him what he wanted."

I've never seen him so angry. I truly believed that the anger I witnessed when he lost himself after the revelation of Eren's basement was the extent of his fury, but not even that explosion of emotion is comparable to the wrath I see in him now. For the first time since I've known him, I see the will to kill in him.

"That shitfaced, unicorn fucking bastard."

His curse is pure venom so potent it erodes his voice into nothing more than a gravelly baritone, and though the fingers still gripping my chin are still, I see the barely contained shaking of his body where rage threatens to burst from him. With a sweep his steel eyes return to mine.

"What else." he demands briskly. "What else did he do."

"Nothing." I reply, still gaping at the sheer strength of his reaction. "I promise I speak truth."

Corporal doesn't reply, allowing me to watch him, and with his face so close to mine I cannot help but bore my gaze into his, searching. Why is he reacting this way? Sure, I'm his subordinate, and I'm certain he does not appreciate soldiers hurting me or any of the other members of his team, but this… this is far beyond normal anger.

Looking at him, my chest thuds in time with my shallow breaths, bemusement as well as fluster heating my face where continues to hold me. This is a kind of anger I've never seen before, an almost defensive, protective anger. Why does he feel defensive? Protective? We have hardly spoken to each other in weeks, and after I so rudely dismissed his warning about James all that time ago, I was certain that he would not wish to have anything to do with me. Yet here he is, upon this great Wall simmering with rage at what James has done to me.

This can't be normal of a corporal to his subordinate, it just can't. I've never seen anyone else react this way to any kind of situation concerning cadets like me, and seeing the enraged look on his face knowing that it's because he loathes that James put his hands on me, for some reason it makes me… happy.

Why am I happy over Corporal becoming angered? That makes no sense. And yet as I stare at him, taking in his icy gray eyes and handsome face contorted into a poorly hidden expression of wrath, I feel an odd sort of comfort. Corporal is concerned about me, why else would he react like this.

'_He… still cares about me?' _I gawk in wonder, hard-pressed to believe my own words.

But the evidence is right here in front of me. There is no mistaking the look in his eyes, and after a moment of tense silence where we do nothing but stare at each other, I see something highly unexpected stir in his gaze. I watch in mute perplexity as the fire in his eyes slowly dies, replaced by something else, and I almost don't believe what it is that I see.

'_Is that…'_

No, it can't be. I don't believe Corporal to be a man capable of feeling such a thing, but I cannot deny the way his expression relaxes and, if possible, his eyes are almost… soft.

I've never seen Corporal look this way, especially towards me, and at the revelation of his shift in emotion I grow even more flustered and my chest warms and tightens inexplicably.

I love the way he looks at me like that.

I've no idea how much time passes with us staring in silence, but with a sudden jolt Corporal seems to come back to himself. The softness dies swiftly as he moves abruptly away, and by the time I register his sudden withdrawal his face is as expressionless as ever.

"What?" He demands, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. "Why are you making that face at me? You look constipated. You need to take a shit or something?"

It was such a swift turn of events, abrupt and uncalled for, and when I catch the end of his harsh comment a strange noise forces itself from me, and I make a face at it's oddness.

Corporal's eyes narrow more.

"That's even worse." he chides, and am I mistaken when I spy a slight tinge about his cheeks?

"You want me to turn around?" He continues, looking as if he is uncomfortable in his own skin.

I don't know what it is, perhaps a mix of his abrupt change in tone and his contorted expression, but from out of nowhere a laugh bursts from my chest and suddenly I'm lost in hilarity. I know not what was so funny about him, Corporal is not a joking man, yet something about him makes me crumple over and I am overwhelmed by a wave of loud, unadulterated laughter.

My reaction must make him mad, because he lets out a scowl.

"What the hell is so damn funny! You think this is some kind of joke!?"

I can't help it. I try to stop but his yelling only makes me laugh harder. It feels so good, laughing like this. I haven't laughed like this in… I've no idea how long. These past months with James, as well as the extended hours I volunteered helping the nurses and doctors treat patients after every daily mission had all but drained me, so this moment, as ridiculous as it is, is like a renewing in me.

It's quite chilling up here with frosty November wind constantly blowing upon me, but I suddenly feel very warm. Corporal's eyes are upon me, burning holes into my head, and though I do not wish to I try my best to stifle myself.

"I… I apologize…!" I stutter through echoing chuckles. "It's just… Your comment was highly unexpected… and the way you said it…"

Another fit overcomes me, and it's an even longer moment before I regain myself enough to continue.

"I apologize again." I start again, confused by my own antics as I'm sure Corporal is. "I know not where it came from. I just… couldn't help myself. I… haven't laughed like that in a long while…"

For the most part he makes no expression at my apology, but after a moment a sneer pulls at his face.

"Tch. I know…" He glowers. " It's because of _him_, that fucking colossal, unhygienic asshat."

I blink.

'_Colossal, unhygienic asshat.'_

Corporal's insults never cease to surprise me, and the hard tone of his voice makes it all the more hilarious.

'_He speaks as if he just stepped in a mount of horse dung.'_

Corporal's face is so distorted in disgust that I laugh once again, lost in myself. He must find my complete disregard for the gravity of the situation annoying, yet he says nothing as I laugh into the sky and muse over him.

He is such an interesting man. He is stern, yet he is considerate to his men while out on the battle field. He is closed off, yet does not hesitate to offer condolence to the fallen and take time to write letters of sympathy to the families of every soldier killed. He is rude, yet his unorthodox comments can lighthearted and even jesting if you listen hard enough. This moment is no exception.

Looking upon him now, I am again lost in just how wonderful he is, how wonderful he _can _be. He truly is a diamond in the ruff, a gem hidden in adversity. There is so much about him that I admire from trivial traits to virtuous qualities. I adore his resolve to fight, his strength and skill in battle, his brilliant mind and unwavering bravery. I'm in awe of his fit, muscular form, his soft raven hair, his narrow, calculating eyes….

It's his eyes that I love the most. It's said that eyes are the windows of the soul, and I believe it. His are hooded and even blank at times, but there is so much to see in them that it makes up for all those moments of hidden mystery. They can be angry, content, annoyed, interested, determined, questioning and, just recently discovered, even soft.

I stop.

'_This feeling… could it be?'_

No, I won't get my expectations up like that just yet, but the warmth of affection still persists in me and I cannot help the glimmer of hope that blooms in my heart when I look upon him. It's undeniable how strong my feelings are for this corporal of mine, yet I do not wish to fight it. I can't fight it, even if I wanted to. There is too much about him that compels me, too much about him that makes me want to know more about him, and despite his crude demeanor and harsh words… I feel comfortable with him.

Safe.

Looking into his steel eyes a smile brightens my face, and my body feels just the tiniest bit lighter and warmer when he looks back at me, and in that moment I know, out of all that was said here, one thing alone is the most true to me.

"Under normal circumstances I abhor using such vulgarity," I begin evenly. "but in this instance I shall relent."

Corporal's expression shifts slightly, a small twitch in his jaw that lets me know that he is interested, and I only smile more at him as a curse falls from my lips.

"James is, in fact, a colossal, unhygienic asshat. Whatever that means…"

A mute color of surprise crosses his eyes, and I don't blame him. Cursing is so rare from me, yet for this moment, just for him, I oblige with joy. And just as rare is my cursing is the open look of awe upon Corporals face. It isn't much in the grand scheme of things, just a slight relaxing of his features and widening of his otherwise slender eyes, but even such a miniscule alteration in expression does wonders to get my heart to leap in my chest.

He's so gorgeous when he looks like that.

I'm not ashamed of the color that must be upon my cheeks, nor do I care if my expression is openly readable. I'm content with just memorizing him and wondering over his seemingly perfect physique.

Unfortunatlely my appreciation is interrupted by a strong gust of wind, and I'm forced to close my eyes and draw my arms about myself in its cold.

"Shitty wind…" I hear Corporal curse, and from the corner of my eye I see him glowering at the dying sun. "Let's go. Your neck needs to be treated before it gets even more hideous. Plus you're freezing, and I'm not about to haul your frozen carcass all the way back."

The softness is gone, the stern and stoic Corporal I normally see returning, but my smile does not fall. My kind, compassionate Corporal is still there, just hidden.

Mentally, I make a vow to myself.

'_I'll see the other side of you one day. You are more than just what you appear to be, and I won't give up until I truly understand just who you are, Corporal.'_

There are no words spoken between us as I stand, but his seemingly uninterested side glace at me is enough to drive a bolt through my body, and hope flares up again.

'_Maybe…' _I think, locking my eyes onto his and I swear I still see a hint of softness there. _'… just maybe.'_

Perhaps there is still a chance for me to find someone who will care about me like the princes in my childhood fairytales always did for their dames. Perhaps love is still possible, even for an abnormal like me. It may take a while, but I'm certain I'll find it.

All I need is time.


End file.
